


Parking Spaces

by MajesticalJeff



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: (some), AU, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Will, BROTP Beverly and Will, Cannibal Hannibal, Cannibalism, Cat person Hannibal, Cats, Chesapeake Ripper Hannibal, Coma, Cutting, Dates, Depression, Dogs, Doubt, Embarrassment, F/F, Fluff, Grumpy Will, Hannibal and Abigail being Will's light at the end of the tunnel, Heart Break, Homophobia, Hospitals, I literally break Will Graham's face, It's murder made to look like suicide actually, M/M, Murder, Not A Happy Ending, Pain, Plot Twist, Possible Marisssa/Abigail, Preller, Psychiatrist Hannibal, RIP Bev, RIP Marissa, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smoking, Suicide (kinda), Teacher Will, Tragedy, Underage Drinking, Will Finds Out, Will and Hannibal FINALLY get it on, You're Welcome, awesome beverly, car crash, distraction sex, hannibal's bentley, life support, like very VERY possible., more than possible, parenting, possible upcoming grisly death, sad death, self conciousness, slightly alcoholic Will, traitorous behavior, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 109,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticalJeff/pseuds/MajesticalJeff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham was a man who liked routine. But it was one cloudy Monday that smelt of a coming storm that Will Graham’s most loathed nightmare became true. It came in the form of a slick black Bentley, with polished rims and a pretentious air that made Will’s teeth set themselves on edge as he glared past the rim of his glasses at the abomination.<br/>And it was parked in his parking space. A break in his routine.<br/>___<br/>Based off the au; You drive a massive SUV and steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you’re hot AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posted fic ever and it's unbeta'd so don't witch hunt me if you don't like it. This was mostly a lazy 'make while drinking a latte beside a open window while indie music plays' kinda thing. So basically; it's short and crap. Enjoy.

Will Graham was a man who liked routine.

His alarm would go off at the same time every day, he’d roll out of bed in a groggy haze to dress himself before feeding his dogs and eating a slice of slightly burnt toast for his own nourishment, and be ready for work within twenty minutes. He’d be in his car by seven and start the drive from his small cottage in Wolftrap to Baltimore, and on the way he’d stop by the same cafe every time and get the same coffee. Two sugars, no milk.

He may not have liked that routine, but it was the one he lived by, and as long as it went smoothly he felt in control, secure of his life and surroundings, it was something to cling to and a form of stability to know that every day would be a carbon copy of the other with only occasion small changes. He’d always wake up to the same thing.

Everyday.

But it was one cloudy Monday that smelt of a coming storm that Will Graham’s most loathed nightmare became true. It came in the form of a slick black Bentley, with polished rims and a pretentious air that made Will’s teeth set themselves on edge as he glared past the rim of his glasses at the abomination. And it was parked in _his_ parking space.

Now, Will Graham was a fairly reasonable person and in any other scenario he would have just calmly found another one, but it wasn't the first time that day that his routine had been broken. His boss, one Jack Crawford, had called him in early to consult on a case, which seemed to have caused a chain reaction. Will thought nothing could get any worse after finding he was nearly out of dog food and had no clean socks, but obvious he was wrong.

And right now, all he wanted to do was to scrape the ugly brown door of his car right up against that assholes rich-ass flashy paint job. The thought made him smile, but it quickly slipped off his face when he remembered his friend Alana’s words about ‘controlling his temper’. Instead, Will Graham found another parking spot, went inside and got his coffee (The person who had made it hadn't stirred it, leaving it disgustingly bitter) and drove to work.

The rest of his day went roughly, everything seemed off and little things that he normally wouldn't mind drove himself insane; the whispers between two of his students in the back, the tap of a pencil on a desk, hell, even breathing had him snapping.

It was that night while in bed after one of the worst days he’d had in months that he rationalized that tomorrow would be better, that his morning would go as usual, he’d get to work and teach, he’d get his coffee the way he liked it. And that fucking Bentley wouldn't be in his parking spot.

* * *

 

By the end of the week Will was ready to tear his hair out. His routine had been completely torn to shreds and thrown out of the window. Every day, something different and more irritating happened, but everyday had something in common; that _fucking_ car. All rational thoughts gone, Will was pissed, he wasn't getting sleep, Jack was pushing him beyond his breaking point, he’d been rude to both his friends and dogs, and was just begging to snap at somebody over how shitty his week had been.

He hadn't had one this bad since last year, when his mind was still plagued by Encephalitis, and the thought of that had him even more riled up. And right now the asshole who drove the Bentley seemed like the perfect person to let this all out on. As he pulled up to the café early Saturday morning –he was working a fucking _Saturday_ \- he took a moment to stop and think about what he was planning to do. Was he going to leave a note under the windshield wipers? It seemed like a dick move, cowardly posing behind a piece of paper with angry words on it. Confrontation didn’t seem like the best option either, but at this point Will didn’t care.

As he though over what he could possibly say, he glanced up to see a man holding a coffee approaching the Bentley with his back to Will and unlock it. Having no more time to think, Will took action, hopping out his car and slamming the door, he rushed over past three cars to where the man was, approaching him from behind. Will’s eyes ran over the polished oxfords, the pristine state of his dark slacks, the long black jacket and the fancy parting of his hair. Hell, the bastard even had leather driving gloves on. “Hey, you, hold on a second.” Will said, his tone coming out with a coldness that made him proud. It had been exactly what he’d been going for.

He was a few feet from the man, staying up on the curb to face him, a poor attempt of dominance over height, seeing as the man appeared to be taller than Will by a few inches. The man straightened from leaning in the car door when he heard Will apparently addressing him, turning to look over at him.

_Oh fuck._

Will felt his mouth open unintelligibly as he stared, and the man’s lips curled slightly as if he knew exactly what had made Will stop. His eyes are what caught Will’s attention first, deep set and a dark maroon color that seemed even darker by his tanned skin. Haughty cheekbones and sharp nose stood out like they were made of marble, and his thin lips seemed almost too perfect for the smile that would make the Mona Lisa proud curled across them.

“Yes?” The man said, his eyebrows raising slightly as his eyes flicked to Will’s mouth, which he realized was still open. Closing it to swallow, Will awkwardly cleared his throat and ignore the way the man’s eyes traveled briefly to the exposed skin of his neck before up his face and finally to his eyes. Pointing his finger at the man’s car Will spoke, “You’re kinda in my parking spot.” Something about this man, whether it was his air of respect and slyness, made Will reevaluate chewing him out for the deed.

The man turned to look almost comically at and around his car. “I do not see a name anywhere.” Will felt his face get warmer as he refused to meet the other’s gaze, which burned like a poker into his face. With no idea what to say, he decided to look anywhere but those penetrating maroon eyes. Clearing his throat again, Will ignored the feeling of sandpaper his tongue had taken on to say. “That’s a Bentley Arnage isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.” The owner of the car replied, seeming surprised by Will's answer, but not commenting on how he changed the subject.

“6.8 L or 6.75 L?” Will asked, wondering if the man driving the car knew. Will took a minute to look over how well the car matched the man- sleek, dark, prideful and pretentious- and dead sexy. “6.75 L.” He said, leaning against the open door.

“You are interested in engines?”

“Boats mostly, but, uh, yeah I know a few things about car engines.” Will said, trying to ignore the way his face was heating up under the man’s intense yet curious gaze.

“Well Mr…” He trailed off as he straightened and stepped back to close the car door, the action making Will swallow as the man took a step towards Will. “Graham.” Will filled in for him. “Will Graham.”

“Well, Mr. Graham, I will try to avoid taking _your_ parking spot in future times.” He said, his tone keeping an amused edge whilst approaching Will, who even standing on the curb was the same height as the man. “Thanks.” Will said, looking anywhere but the dark eyes that seemed to be trying to meet his own. There was barely a foot between them, but still even then the other man offered his hand to Will. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” Will shook his hand against his own better judgement, knowing if he didn’t it would be blatant disrespect. Even through the leather the Hannibal’s driving glove, he could feel the warmth and strength in the long fingers. If Will had to take a guess he’d say the man probably played piano.

“What kind of Doctor are we talking about here?” Will said in a casual tone. “The ‘vaccine your kids’ or the ‘I have six GEDs in massages’ kind?”

Hannibal Lecter gave a huff of laughter at Will’s dry humor as his smile grew. “Psychiatrist.”

 _Of fucking course._ Will Graham never seemed to catch a break at this rate. He should have guessed. And some of seemed to show on his face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No nothing just…” Will trailed off, finding himself staring at the doctors lips. He hadn’t noticed how close they stood and shuffled back, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “I just don’t work well with psychiatrists.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal said, actually seeming _more_ interested.

“Like cats and dogs.” Will grumbled dryly, well aware that Hannibal Lecter could see the dog hair that was laden over his clothes, seeming to be forever ingraved between his fingers or through the hemming of his jeans. Hannibal didn’t have a speck on him, and didn’t seem to be the type of person to have a pet. Hannibal’s smile widened, and Will caught a hint of sharp teeth. “That is quite unfortunate because I was going to ask if you’d like to have coffee sometime this week with me Mr. Graham.”

Will stared, completely floored. The guy he’d just gone to bitch out for taking his stupid parking spot that wasn’t even technically _his_  , just embarrassed him and then asked him out. Opening his mouth, Will lacked anything to say and ended up spilling the first words that came to mind out of his mouth.“I hate cat people.”

This time, when Hannibal smiled, it was all teeth, and it made Will think back to when he was watching Shark Week months earlier, the way those teeth were bared feigned innocent but hide a predator. It made Will want to turn tale and run as much as it make him want to get as close as possible. “And I dislike dog people. I think we will get along just fine Mr. Graham.”

When Will Graham got home, he went straight to his room, placing Hannibal Lecter’s business card on his bedside table within reach as he crawled under his sheets.

He called in sick that day. He deserved the sleep anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly and Will 'discuss' the possibly upcoming date between Will and Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted another chapter???? I don't know i figured Bev would have something to say about all this and y'all asked for it.  
> Still unbeta'd so don't kill me.

“Just _call him,_ Will.”

“And say what, Bev? ‘Oh hey this is the guy that was ready to verbally assault you in the parking lot the other day over a parking spot and I wanted to take you up on that coffee offer?’”

Beverly’s sigh of exasperation was loud and laced with impatience. Sitting in his small living room, Will and Beverly each had a lukewarm beer in hand and a dog on lap. A box of pizza was sitting on the living room table between them, ordered nearly a half hour ago but still untouched. Tall and beautiful, she’d been the only one when he’d started consulting on cases for Jack that hadn’t tired of trying to communicate with him, earning a place in his life. She was wonderful to talk to, except for right now, when the only thing she wanted to talk about was the foreign doctor that had asked Will to coffee.

Beverly _watched him_ from her perch on the couch as she slowly turned her wrist in circular motions, spinning the beer slowly around in its bottle. Finally she spoke. “You said he was a psychiatrist?” She asked with an attempt at nonchalance to cover her true curiosity on the subject, raising an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her beer.

“Yeah.” Will replied, his words coming out in an agitated sigh that screamed of defeat. He and Beverly had been bickering over the topic for what seemed like forever since he’d texted her about the event the morning after it happened. Since then she’d been hounding him to say yes to the offer whilst also trying not to seem pushy. It was endearing.

“Well, that would be quite a step for you, wouldn’t it?”

Will made a noise of agreement, knocking back the rest of his own beer before saying, “My life seems to be made of big steps.”

Beverly laughed, an honest one that suited her and made Will smile. “That’s for sure. How’s Abigail?”

“Abigail is…” Will trailed, off trying to find words to describe the young girl who slept in the room across from his. “She’s good. Listens to a lot of music.”

“Well, that’s normal for her age.” Beverly said as she leaned forward to take a slice of rapidly cooling pizza whilst trying not to irritate Buster, who slept on her lap. “Next thing you know she’ll want a tattoo.”

“I’m pretty sure she already does.” Will said with laughter in his voice and a smile on his face. Gently nudging Stardust (A Yorkie mix so cleverly named by Alana when she found it ruffling through some trash) off his lap so he could get himself another beer.

“You know,” Beverly called from the living room as Will walked through the doorway into the compressed kitchen. “You should actually go out with Hannibal. It might actually be fun.”

“You’ve told me that multiple times already.” Will called back as he rummaged through the fridge.

“You’re not getting any younger you know.” This time her voice was closer, and when he straightened, beer in hand, she stood leaning against doorframe, staring at him with raised eyebrows. Will scoffed.

“You think I don’t know that Beverly?” He replied, turning to take the magnetic cap opener off the fridge.

“You said that he looked like he was nearing his late forties didn’t you?”

“Yes I did, why does it matter?” Will grumbled, prying off the lid of the first one.

“Well, he isn’t getting any younger either. Maybe you should not get any younger _together_.”

“I don’t know Bev, maybe I’ll call him tomorrow.” Will turned to see her holding up his phone and stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

“What you obviously won’t do.” She said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the business card Hannibal had given him between two fingers. Will felt himself blanch, she must have grabbed it when she went to take his phone.

Slowly putting the beers back down on the counter, he raised his hands slowly at shoulder height to show surrender. Beverly, who was grinning and holding her lip between her teeth, made a sudden jerking movement as if to run and Will felt himself flinch into the action to race after.

When she took off he was hot on her heels, they turned the corner out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs before- Beverly slammed the bathroom door before he could make it.

“Beverly!” He called through the door as he flattened himself against it, slapping the flat of his palm against it. “Beverly _no._ ”

Will faintly heard the tapping of buttons and gave a pathetic groan. “C’mon Bev, play fair.”

“You brought this upon yourself.” She called back, and it was evident in her voice that she was grinning. _She thought this was hilarious._

After slamming his hand repeatedly on the door and calling her name as well as giving her a few well-placed but still insulting jibes about how he hates the smell of her perfume, she hushed him and Will found out why a few seconds later.

“Hello, is this Hannibal Lecter?”

_No. Oh no. No no no._

Will figured she’d just flush the man’s card or stay in there until he promised to call. He had been so stupid to believe she wouldn’t pull this. This time his voice was more desperate. “Wait, Beverly, hold on a second-”

Her voice was laced with sugar as she responded. “Hi, yes, this is Beverly Katz, a friend of Will Graham. He’s a little…. Incapacitated right now, but he would like to accept your offer for coffee.”

“ _Beverly_!”

“Will, shut up.” She said, obviously covering the speaker with her hand. “No.” He said back stubbornly as he continued his slamming against the door.

“Anyway,” She said loudly in a horrible attempt to cover Will’s muffled shouts. “How does three o’clock on Friday work for you?”

He obviously got an agreement, because Beverly cheerily replied “Great! The same place you two met work?”

 _“Beverlyyyy.”_ Will said in one last, pitying attempt to fix the mess he was now waist deep into.

“That’s great. He’ll see you then.” Will stood with his head against the doorframe. After a few seconds, the door opened and Beverly surrendered. Snatching the phone from her hand he pressed his palms into his eyes and backed up against the opposite wall. “Why did you do that?”

“Because if I didn’t, you’d procrastinate and overthink it until the opportunity was gone.”

She was right, naturally. Will lost a lot of chances of romantic relationships that way, it didn’t mean he was pleased with how she did it, but he wasn’t mad either. “thanks.” He said with a sigh, staring at the buttons of her shirt instead of her eyes.

“You don’t sound thankful but I didn’t except you to. Here.” She said, passing him back the business card. “In case you want to cancel.”

“You really should tell me that.” He replied, taking the card anyway. She shrugged.

“We should probably save whatever’s left of the pizza from the dogs. Abigail would be upset if there wasn’t any for her breakfast when she gets home tomorrow.” Will said, making his descent down the stairs. Beverly, who followed him, laughed. “That girl has one strange diet.”

“Tell me about it.” Will mumbled back in reply, even as the affection smile spread his face.

He couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the date - _was it technically a date?_ \- that he would be going on that Friday. That night Beverly stayed over, not wanting to risk the two hour drive back in the middle of the night after three beers, so she took over the empty left side of Will’s bed. Since Abigail moved in he’d lost his guest bedroom, but he didn’t mind.

Beverly was like a furnace, giving off more heat than he could take and snuffling adorably into her pillow. Will was being kept awake by her presence, although having done this multiple times before, but he didn’t mind it today. It gave him more time to think about things.

Like the handsome psychiatrist with the stupid black Bentley that he would be having coffee with on Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo mysterious Abigail? Sorry if anyone seemed ooc (although y'all been saying it hasn't been but y'know. Some people write certain character better than other character so just in case)  
> I honestly don't know where i'm going with this but it obviously won't be that bad i mean would could possibly go wrong?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal have their 'date'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly writing a fic feels like raising a child. Why has nobody told me this.  
> So i burden ye all with another chapter of 'making-it-up-as-i-go' goodness. Still unbeta'd.

On Friday, Will was beyond the point of stressed. He was actually quaking in his shoes at the possible thought of the date.

Abigail, who’d returned the morning after Beverly had temporarily ruined his life, had been told all about Hannibal while Will still slept. Beverly had been smart to flee the house before he woke. Abigail, who’d never seen Will with anyone, had a smile on her face the entire day before admitting she knew about Will’s date, to which he groaned and placed his face in his hands.

Will, meanwhile, had been trying his best to say it wasn’t a date, just an ‘outing.’ It even seemed ridiculous to himself, the way it sounded, but the less he heard people talk about it the less it drove him insane.

Beverly had luckily set the ‘meeting’ during the time Will usually would eat. Well, was _supposed_ to be eating, but was mostly dedicated to shoving his head so far into cases that his entire class could enter the room and he wouldn’t notice until one approached and snapped him out of it.

Luckily when Friday rolled around, he didn’t stutter through his presentation to his class (A slideshow on the WingMan; a serial killer who'd peeled back people's faces to show 'who they actually were inside'), and when class time was up, Will found himself moving as slowly as possible, trying to delay the uncontrollable. _Damn it Bev._

It’s not that he didn’t _want_ to go on a date with Hannibal- honestly, who _wouldn't_? Tall, sleek, European and obviously well off, Will himself can’t even count on two hands how many people he knows would die for the opportunity. But it wasn’t any of that that had made Will accept the business card.

There was something about Hannibal Lecter that was exciting as much as it was terrifying, and Will’s curiosity overrode his instinct to run like hell in the opposite direction, away from those predatory eyes.

Will’s mind went back to sharks- sharp teeth and vicious strength hidden under a slick surface. Not a threat to anyone who wasn’t worthy of it, who never knew it was too late till those razor teeth were wrapped around their throat and dragging them into the deep.

Will subconscious wondered what it would be like to be bitten. And it’s what drove him to pick up his pace and make it to the café. He was late, by ten minutes due to his lollygagging. His lack to telling the Doctor so would be considered rude, and Will didn’t want to leave a bad impression.

When he pulled up to the coffee shop, he noticed the parking spot- _his_ parking spot- was empty, and the Bentley was parked beside it. With a grin, he pulled into the spot and climbed out.

Entering the small café, he took the décor that he usually ignored. The place had been suggested to him by his friend Alana. It was decorated with red tiles and musty browns. Plants hung from small corners of the room and the tables were dark wood. The counter ran the length of the room to the left, and like all small ethnic places, it had large windows facing the street and parking lot.

All it took was a quick glance around the room to find Hannibal where he was at a far corner beside a window. He’d obviously been there more than ten minutes from the way he’d made himself comfortable. A pair of spectacles balanced at the edge of his nose as his eyes gazed over the yellowed pages of a book.

He’d taken off his jacket, leaving him in a three piece suit that Will hadn’t noticed before. Was he dressed that way last time, or had he just returned from an event?

Deciding not to waste any more time, Will approached and pulled out the chair opposite to Hannibal, who looked up when Will arrived. “Sorry I’m late. A student had a few questions that held me up.”

_Liar. You were panicking over human interaction._

“It’s quite alright. I hope you do not mind I have already ordered my drink. I did not know what you prefer so I decided to wait.” Hannibal said, gesturing to his own mug.

“Right, I’ll get mine now.” He said, getting up from the seat he had just taken. Shedding his jacket, he dropped it over the back of his seat and gave Hannibal a shaky, pressed smile that the Doctor returned with ease.

As Will stood in the short line, he couldn’t help but glance over at the man. He sat with elegance, something Will was sure to be impossible until now. He let his eyes slide over the posture, stiff and manicured, while also relaxed. Will could bet all the money in his back account that if he’d tried to pull something like that off all at the same time, he’d fall out of his chair.

After finally getting his coffee –A personal victory seeing as it was stirred this time around- he went back to his seat. Hannibal, who must’ve just finished his page, politely closed the book after sliding a marker in, and took off his glasses. Placing both into the bag Will hadn’t noticed by the Doctors ankles, Will decided to break the silence.

“Reading glasses?” Will asked, trying to resist the urge to lift his hand up and adjust his own which were starting to slide down his nose.

“My sight isn’t what it used to be.” Hannibal said with a smile, before straightening and gazing at Will and lacing his fingers together. It was then Will realized he’d have to communicate with the Doctor, and suddenly wished the man had kept his book out and just read the entire time so Will could stare at him the entire time; communicate without words.

The few minutes of silence felt like hours, and when Will couldn’t stand it anymore he felt his face split into a smile and huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry I uh…” He said, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “I don’t do this often.”

“I’ve noticed.” Hannibal replied, his smile never fading. Will was personally impressed, never being able to keep a smile on his face for more than a minute.

“You said you like dogs Will?”

“Hm? Oh yes.” Will said with a shaky laugh. “Bit of an understatement. I have seven.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose. “Seven? Quite a collection.”

“It is, isn’t it.” Will said, trying to find something to do with his hands other than stare at them. He placed them on the table top. “A collection, I mean.”

Will cleared his throat before speaking again. “Do you have any pets?”

“A cat.” Hannibal replied, taking a sip of his coffee, eyes glittering with amusement past the rim.

“A cat?” Will repeated, raising his own eyebrows. “Never figured you the type to let animals in the house. No offence.” Will added the last part hastily and broke eye contact, opting to stare at the curve of Hannibal’s mouth. And what a nice mouth it was…

“No offence taken. You are quite right in presuming so. My friend Alana-”

“Alana Bloom?” Will said, looking up in surprise that Hannibal seemed to share.

“Yes, you know her? He asked, seeming genuinely interesting.

“A friend of mine. Took over some classes for me while I was…” He looked away, swallowing hard as he pushed back memories that brought a sour taste to his mouth. “away. Anyway, please continue. Sorry for interrupting.”

Hannibal, who smiled even wider at his sudden politeness, continued. “Well, Alana believed I was too lonely in my house so decided I needed to change that.”

Will snorted. “She’s always said animals were therapeutic. Probably sprouted some statistics about getting Alzheimer’s earlier in life from isolation in your fifties.”

Will’s comment left them both to laugh a little, and Will stopped abruptly. It was all so domestic, a date, Will Graham was on a _coffee date_ with a foreign psychiatrist who liked cats and were now laughing together.

The second coming of Christ must be shortly because this was obviously a sign of the abnormal.

Will’s attention was dragged back to Hannibal. That laugh- he had no idea a laugh could be sexy. And since when did he start using the word _sexy_?

Oh yeah, the end of times were coming.

“So, may I ask about the women who accepted this offer for you?” Hannibal asked. He’d seemed genuinely amused with Will the entire time, He was a fantastic listener and seemed to take everything Will said in deep contemplation before replying.

“That was a friend of mine, Beverly.” Will said, nearly inhaling his coffee when Hannibal had mentioned it. “I apologize about that, she stole my phone and locked herself in the bathroom before I could stop her.”

“Why would she steal your phone?” Hannibal asked, leaning forward to press his elbows into the table and rest one palm under his chin. Form everything Will had observed it was very unlike the man. It made him lower to Will’s height, his back curved, and Will noticed that it was for him, a mimic of his posturing to make him more comfortable.

A smile curled his lips as he replied. “She said I was acting like I was four because I was nervous about accepting.”

Hannibal’s lips curled into a grin, one that at this angle was all too attractive, and the way his cheekbones and jawline stood out, how his eyes seemed slightly hooded. It had Will squirming slightly in his seat. “And why would you be nervous about accepting?”

_Because you are obviously way too good for me and could do much better._

“I don’t do this often.” Will said dryly. “Don’t have much practice.”

“Understandable.” Hannibal said, straightening his back and stretching slightly, unfurling like a cat would. Will tried to avoid staring his throat.

The rest of the time went smoothly, Hannibal at a point brought up Will’s distaste for eye contact and Will gave the regular answer, like a well-rehearsed speech that Hannibal seemed to be able to see right through although never called him out on it.

When it was time for them both to separate at the end of the hour, they walked out to their cars together.

“I uh, had a nice time.” Will said, silently cursing the blush on his face. _Why was he blushing?_

Hannibal smiled. “As did it. I would like to do it again if it fine with you.”

“Oh definitely.” Will said before flinching at how quickly he replied. Hannibal, by some string of luck, seemed to find it endearing and his smile widened, showing off those sharp teeth Will had seen last time, except they seemed less predatory, causing some of the tension to leave Will’s shoulder.

“So… do we, shake hands?” Will said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He laughed at his own comment as Hannibal made an amused noise in his throat that had the color returning to Will’s face even brighter than before.

When Hannibal shook Will’s hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Oh, and Hannibal?” Will said before Hannibal could leave, approaching him so that the open car door of the Bentley was still between them. He held out his own business card. Plain and ugly, something Beverly told him he should make for a just-in-case kind of situation. He was now incredibly thankful for it.

Hannibal took the card, and to Will’s utter shock, kissed him on the cheek.

Will was left standing on the curb in an utter daze as Hannibal smiled one last time and drove off.

There was no doubts in his mind; This had definitely been a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHARK METAPHORS [throws some glitter]  
> Honestly Beverly and Will are the best friendship in history fight me.  
> I don't even know where i'm going with this but it's too late to stop now so just gonna roll with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Beverly talk out the events between Will and Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd. Still wondering how this all happened. Still not knowing where this is going. Still listening to Guardians of The Galaxy soundtrack while writing this. Good luck.
> 
> BTW. If you notice the End Notes being weird af i tried to fix it but i don't know what it is.

“Please tell me that’s some kind of strange European thing and it didn’t actually mean what I thought it meant.”

Sitting at the counter in his kitchen, Will had just explained the entire date to Beverly, who was sitting across from his, he'd just finished explaining how Hannibal had kissed him on the cheek and tried to ignore the blush that came to his face or the way his voice seemed to rise an octave. “I dunno what to say Will, sounds like he’s interested in you.” She replied with a shrug, taking a sip from Will’s whiskey glass and wrinkling her nose at the strength of it.

Will laid his head down on the counter and groaned. Beverly sighed and rolled her eyes at his dramatics. “Maybe you’re over reacting.”

Will’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to reply, but Beverly cut him off. “He asked you on a date, you tried to avoid admitting it was a date. He kissed you on the cheek because he’s obviously interested in you, and you’re trying to pass it off as nothing. Notice a pattern?”

She got up from her stool and walked around Will to the fridge to rummage around for something to snack on. Ever since Abigail moved in, it was well stocked even though Will was never the one restocking it. He never really brought it up with the teenager, and she never brought it up with him.

“If I didn’t know you better,” Beverly said, returning to her seat with a bag of mini carrots and a beer. “I’d say you weren’t interested.”

“What makes you think I am?” Will grumbled like a sullen child. The look Beverly gave him was more than unflattering. “Seriously?” she asked dryly as if Will had just personally offended their friendship. In a way he had, forgetting how Beverly new more about him then he did and Will flushed, looking away.

“Sorry.”

“Mhm.” She said, biting into a carrot just as they both heard the door open.

“Will? I'm back."

“In here.” Beverly called out, and Abigail entered the room. Of regular height and weight for a girl her age, Abigail was pretty, with large blue eyes and oak brown hair. She smiled widely at the sight of Bev, someone she'd grown accustomed to in their household. Beverly was kind of like the cool older sister that everyone wanted, the one Will never had. He was happy Abigail was getting a female figure like Beverly in his life, especially when it came to talking about girl things- he wasn't the greatest person to talk to in general, but it became worse when he was out of his zone.

“Hello Beverly.” She said, walking over to where Beverly was sitting. Beverly extended her arm, obviously expecting a hug, which Abigail gave before turning to look at Will.

“Oh,” She said, smile slipping as she took in his tired appearance and the whiskey tumbler in front of him. “Did it not go well?”

“It went fine.” Will said dryly, taking a sip from his whiskey and lazily spinning it in slow circles around the glass.

“Will just isn’t used to things going good for him so he’s reacting poorly out of confusion.” Beverly said sarcastically, earning a murderous look from Will and a laugh from Abigail.

“How’s Marissa?” Will asked instead, changing the topic.

“She’s good. Got a new kitten and asked me to help name it.”

“Really?” Beverly said with a smile. “What’d you name it?”

“Gramps. It’s grey.” She said in an explanatory fashion and Beverly nodded understandingly. The two of them shared a smile before Abigail announced she was off to her room. As she passed by Will she stopped and took the whiskey glass from in front of him and put it beside the sink, then left. The two at the counter watched her exit then listened to her footsteps up the stairs and the creaking around her room above them.

Will sometimes was sometimes jealous of Beverly, it was always brief but pure. She would make a fantastic mother, the way she soothed a sympathized with anybody about anything, the way she was so viciously protective and stern when she needed to. Will swore she was better with Abigail than anyone he knew, even Alana, and they didn’t usually spend that much time together.

Beverly turned back to Will, her next words pulling him out of though. “So when will you see him again?”

Will sighed, sitting back and rubbing his eyes. “I have no idea. I gave him my number though.”

“Well, you technically do have his address, you could just play guitar on his front yard and give him roses.” She said with a shrug and a swig of beer. Will spluttered at the mere thought and shook his head before pressing the heel of his palm into his eye and mumbling about how he'd never do such a thing. Beverly grinned as she watching him.

“You should get some sleep.” Beverly advised and Will gave her a ‘ _no shit Sherlock’_ look. Beverly sighed and pushed herself up from her seat. “It’s a Saturday night, I vote we find some horrible teen romance, make some popcorn and sit in the dark with beers. You can either mope, or join me.”

Will snorted. “I don’t really think I get a choice in the matter.”

“No you don’t, now I’m going to go see if Abigail is in, you start making the popcorn.”

Will waited to hear Beverly’s feet climbing the stairs before he moved to the sink and downed the rest of his whiskey before pulling out the popcorn maker.

 

* * *

Will was vaguely aware of his phone ringing. _God what time is it?_

His eyelids felt like lead as he pried them open. He was in one of his slouched arm chairs in the living room. Taking a minute to try and remember how he got there, he looked around the room. Beverly and Abigail were both asleep on the couch with their legs tangled together in the center.

Looking for the source of the ringing, he spotted his phone on the table and reached forward with a quiet groan. The blanket tossed lazily over his waist fell off as he pushed himself up. The phone claimed it was an unknown caller.

_Who in the fuck could this be?_

“Yes?” Will said grumpily, shuffling his way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

“Will?”

_Oh. That’s who in the fuck it could be._

“Hello Hannibal.” Will replied trying to cover his yawn and failing spectacularly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Concern rippled the crisp voice on the other end.  _He’s an early riser._ Will thought abysmally, well at least that was another difference between the two of them to remember. "Technically yes, but it’s alright.”

“If you’re quite sure, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Will?” Will turned to look at sleepy Abigail whose eyes widened when she saw the phone pressed to his ears. Pausing she mouth ' _Hannibal_?' to him and he nodded, not bothering to find out how she new his name. Will was going to blame Beverly for now. Abgiail mouthed a quick 'sorry' before leaving the room.

“Will?” It was Hannibal who inquired this time and Will cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah sorry, my dau- my friend just distracted me. Sorry.” Will mentally face palmed himself. He’d be thinking about what he’d nearly said for days now, just as he had last time it accidentally slipped out. “But yes I’d love to join you.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said, either not having heard the slip or simply too polite to mention it.

After telling Will his address and Will hastily scribbling it down on the back of a brownie recipe he found on a sheet of paper in a drawer, they both bid farewell.

Will leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes with both hands. Tossing his phone down, he;d made up his mind. Walking straight back into the living room, past Abigail who frowned at him in confusion, and back into the chair he’d been sleeping in. He pulled his knees up to his chest and shoved his face against the cushion.

He was going to sleep the entire day away and nobody could stop him.

 

* * *

 

“Will Graham get your ass up.”

Will groaned, pulling the blanket up higher over his head before it was violently tugged away.

“Mr. Sexy-Sounding European called and you didn’t wake me?” Beverly said, grabbing his leg and tugging him so he slid off the chair.

“Hey!” He snapped, wide awake after landing on his ass on the carpeted floor. Abigail stood not far behind Beverly with a guilty expression on her face.

“Just because I’m on the phone doesn’t mean it’s him.” Will said, glaring up and Beverly, who put her hands on her hips and stared down at him with raised eyebrows.

“Really? Then tell me it wasn’t him.”

“It was.” Will said, not bothering to lie.

“Hah- I knew it. What did he want, are you two going on another coffee date?”

“He actually invited me to his place for dinner tomorrow.”

Beverly’s mouth opened in surprise before suddenly turning into a sly grin. Crossing her arms and nodding, the teasing glint in her eyes shone bright as she drawled, “Wow, third base already Graham? I’m impressed.”

Will felt his face glow bright red as he grumbled, “It’s not like that. It’s _dinner_.”

“Yeah, and I can probably guess what dessert is.” She said with a wink as Will groaned. A small laugh came from behind them both and Will remember that Abigail was there to witness his humiliation at the hand of Beverly.

“Don’t you have homework to be doing or something?” Will snipped desperately and she shook her head. “If it makes you feel better, we can help you choose what to wear.” She said brightly and Beverly ‘ooo’d and her smirk somehow got wider the prospect of dressing Will in something other than clothes bought at a construction store.

“I can dress myself.” Will said, starting to feel like a child as Beverly and Abigail grinned down at him from his uncomfortable landing point on the floor.

“Not really. You literally leave the house in flannel shirts and silk ties. I can’t trust your fashion sense when it comes to a date let alone any other time.” Beverly said shaking her head and offering Will a hand to pull himself up. He accepted it.

“I like my flannel shirts” He scowled as Beverly hoisted him up.

“I’ll have to side with Beverly on this.” Abigail piped up.

“Traitor.” Will said with a grimace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am literally Beverly at all times. Comment, Kudos, whatever i don;t care. Sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for all the compliments. Y'all are sweet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will spends the time before his date with Abigail and Marissa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd. I should fix that. Also i don't know if i'll be updated tomorrow. Enjoy.

The next morning, the air was clean, firm and surprisingly warm. Beverly had left to spend some time with Price (who was mad at Brian for some reason again), and Abigail confessed she has a little homework to do, leaving Will to wander aimlessly until later that night when he was to meet Hannibal.

Not having class to teach, and the only possible future distraction was if some lunatic decided that weekends were for the sane and stringed somebodies liver from a tree in a playpark so that Jack had to call him in to profile the prick. Will sighed, it’d been a while since that’d last happened, it was almost starting to become unusual, not that he was about to complain.

He made an attempt at a lazy sit-in day, but it went poorly, his mind being easily distracted from his fishing catalogs, laundry folding, and TV watching, leaving him frustrated and antsy.

After an hour of utter hopelessness, Abigail came down. Dressed in a jean skirt, flowery stockings that matched the scarf around her neck, and a blouse, she was obviously going out and Will sat up from where he was slouched on the chair. “Hey, Abigail?”

She paused by her way past the couch to get her boots. “Yeah?”

“You need me to take you anywhere?” His desperation had obviously stepped up a notch to be asking somebody else for something to do. Noticing his eagerness to leave the house, she raised her eyebrows.

“Why, are you bored?” She said with a grin and Will sighed deeply. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well that’s something new, Mr. 'I-Never-Get-A-Break'. I was just going to see if Marissa wanted to go to that new icecream stand that just opened a few blocks from her house.”

“An icecream stand opened?”

“Mhm. Apparently is has Moose Tracks.” She said, narrowing her eyes slightly as her smile grew and Will huffed a laugh, remembering that when she’d first moved in, the only thing in his house to eat was fish, bread, lettuce, ham, and Moose Tracks ice cream.

“Is that your way of inviting me?” Will said with a slow smile spreading his face. Propping her arms against the back of the couch behind him, she rested her chin on the top of his head. “Yep. Take it or leave it, Grumpy.”

“Does Marissa know we’re coming?” He said nonchalantly as he flipped a page of the magazine in his lap. Abigail peeks down past his wild curls at the boat advertisement on the page, her chin pressing sharply into Will's head. “No, I thought I’d surprise her.”

“Remember what I told you about no calling first?” He said teasingly and she scoffed above him. When she’d first arrived, she’d spend more time at Marissa’s then anywhere and when she was home, she’d been rude and snarky. Will had put up with it, understanding that every time she saw him she saw the man who killed her father. The only thing he’d tried to ever enforce was calling Marissa before barging out to spend time with her whenever she was frustrated with Will. When he’d originally said it, he’d been at the bottom of the stairs watching her stomp up and slam her bedroom door.

Things were much different now.

“Alright, C’mon, get up.” She said, pulled her head back, and walking around the couch. Taking the magazine from his lap and tossing to onto the cushion to his right, she grabbed both his hands and dug her heels into the floor boards, making an attempt at hauling him up.

Will didn’t try to retain his laughter and watching her try to pull him up, he slid forward to the edge of the cushion, but it was the extent of her abilities. Decided to let her win this one, he pushed lightly on the balls of his feet, sending them both staggering when she finally succeeded in making him stand.

Grinning at Will and smacking him on the arm for messing around, she walked to the door and grabbed her boots before stepping out to put them on out on the deck. Making sure nothing of value was out for the dogs to chew on- not that he had much of value, but if one of Abigail’s boots once again fell victim to their teeth she’d probably have a stroke- before grabbing his keys and heading out the door after her. The dogs had already been let out for a half hour so they didn’t need to worry about the dogs making a mess anywhere.

Abigail’s car was a truck, one her father had bought her and she’d been too attracted to get rid of. It was roomy enough that the three wouldn’t have a problem in it, but Abigail tossed a look at Will’s car. “Would you prefer the van?” She asked, knowing Will would be a bit pensive about being so close to someone he didn’t know so well.

“I’ll survive.” He said, approaching her truck. “I need your keys If I’m driving.”

“Who says you’re driving?” She said before zipping past him to the driver’s seat.

“Hey!” He called, walking around the other side of the car. “Unfair. I was there first.”

“You were three feet from the door, so technically _I_ was there first. You can drive once we pick up Marissa.”

Grumbling about how ‘he was closer than three feet’ Will climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in. Will actually didn’t mind much, he was used to sitting in passenger seat seeing as nobody while he was working would let him drive. _Probably think I’m too mentally unstable- zone out and crash. Kill us all in a fiery ball of light._

The drive to Marissa’s house wasn’t long, twenty minutes at the most. It was a small place, very boxy. She’d moved in with her cousin after the ordeal with Abigail’s parents. After a rough childhood and abusive father, the threat of losing the only good thing in her life when Abigail moved to Wolftrap motivated her to take matters into her own hands, packing her bags and moving to her cousins without so much as a backward glance. The one time Will had met Marissa, he’d recognized a child from a broken household, the scars that were both mental and physically hidden under layers. It’s why he’d never stopped Abigail every time she went to see the girl.

When Abigail left the car to knock on Marissa’s door, Will went up with her. She frowned at him and he shrugged. He just wanted to make sure Marissa’s cousin was okay with everything. After a minute or two, footsteps approached and the door opened to show Marissa- the minute Will saw her he instantly looked up at the wooden planking above his head.

Abigail had mentioned once that the only people who really visited was her and the pizza delivery guy. Will felt bad for the guy who must have a heart attack every time he was called to this address.

“Oh, shit, Abby I didn’t realize you brought him.” Marissa’s voice said in surprise. She’d only been in a pink bra and mini shorts, her hair had still been wrapped in a towel, obviously only having just got out of the shower. “I’ll be right back.”

Will waited till he heard the door close before looking back down, looking anywhere but Abigail, who was silently laughing. “Sorry about that.” Abigail said with a grin at him before leaning towards him with interest to say, “Are you blushing?”

“I feel like I committed a crime just _seeing_ her.” Will grumbled and Abigail smacked him on the arm.

“Technically she’s no longer underage in Canada.”

“Not interested.” Will grumbled again. "You better not answer the door like that." He added as an after thought. He knew she would take it in a joking manor, but after what had just happened, he was dead serious. And right now all he wanted from was some brain bleach to rid himself of what he just saw.

"Yeah yeah." Abigail replied, snickering.

They didn’t have to wait long, But Will still sat on the delicate looking bench and Abigail leans against the wall opposite to him. They stayed in silence until the door opened again and Marissa stepped out. Dressed in tight dark jeans and a silky shirt, she looked between the two of them without a twinge of embarrassment. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting you to bring Mr. Graham.”

“It’s Will.” He replied, giving her the nicest smile he could after his brief trauma. She smiled back slightly and nodded.

“I- _we-_ were wondering if you’d like to join us for icecream?” Abigail said brightly, and Will knew that Marissa wasn’t going to decline. Nobody could decline to a smile like that. She could honestly ask him to murder his entire family with a spork and he’d do it if she smiled like that. It was the smile of youthful innocence, and with what Will did for a living- _saw_ what he did _-_ it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Yeah, I’d love too, let me grab my purse.” Marissa said, gesturing over her shoulder to inside.

“It’s on me.” Will said, and both girls looked at him in surprise. He didn’t know where it came from, but he knew he’d like to do it. Consulting was one of those well-paying jobs, so it’s not like he’d suffer from it.

“You don’t have to-” Marissa said sheepishly, but Will got up and shook his head. “I insist.”

Marissa nodded and Abigail gave Will a radiant smile and the girls followed Will back to the car. When Abigail gave Will the keys, she caught his shoulder and looked up at him, saying a quiet “thank you.” Before getting in the car, Marissa following.

Abigail and Marissa gave the directions, and within a few blocks they’re reached a large open grass area with a baseball diamond and a playpark on it, like a entire block of houses had been knocked down for it to be made. or maybe it was kept without houses originally. Just across from it on a corner was a pastel yellow and green tiled building titled ‘ _McIver’s_ ’

They pulled over, and slid out of the car. What appeared to be a Little Leagues game was going on at the baseball diamond, and the three of them seemed to realize at once that once that game was done, McIver’s would be flooded. With a sudden boost in their pace, they hurried across the street, Marissa nearly tripping, her and Abigail giggling manically about it until they tumbled in the door, Will behind them.

The inside reflected the outside, the classic ice cream parlor aesthetic brought to life in pastels and crisp vanilla scented air. A few families where already in there, taken seats at the few delicate tables, as well as two darkly dressed teenage girls sharing a shake in the back corner.

Will was impressed with the collection of icecream the place had, the counter stretching the far wall. Marissa chose a scoop of strawberry and mint in a cone, and Abigail a lemon-lime sorbet in a cup. Will himself got a small cup of Moose Tracks, making Abigail snicker.

After paying, they opted for the benches under a tree not far from the baseball game. Will sat listening to Abigail and Marissa, who were sitting opposite each other while Will opted to sit next to Abigail and face outwards, looking at the scenery.

“Will?”

“Hm?” He said, turning to look over his shoulder between Marissa and Abigail.

“I just asked what time your date was.” Abigail said, taking a spoonful of Sorbet into her mouth and raising her eyebrow in questioning.

“At seven.”

“Ooooh, evening date?” Marissa said, leaning forward on her elbows to grin at Will. Unlike Abigail, Marissa had grey-blue eyes and tanned skin. Her hair was also darker, giving her a dusky complexion.

“Yeah. Dinner.” He said, turning to put one leg under the table so he was facing Abigail. Leaning one arm against the table, he placed his empty icecream cup on the table and examined the rough wood.

“What’s her name?” Marissa asked, seeming genuinely interested.

“His.” Abigail chirped, not even looking up from scraping the bottom of her own cup.

“Him? Oh, well, what’s _he_ like?” Marissa said, brushing off her mistake with ease. Will swore she’d had a better reaction than half the people he knew would. No “ _since when are you gay?_ ” or an “ _Oh_ ” that seemed to be filled with too many negative emotions. It made him instantly take a liking to her.

“He’s a psychiatrist, a cat person, foreign, and drives a Bentley.” Will says indulgently, not even fighting the prideful smirk that comes onto his face when her eyes get wider. “Marry him.”

“That’s what I said.” Abigail interjected and Will frowned at her. “When did you say that?”

“When Beverly told me everything you told her. Did he really kiss you on the cheek already?”

“That means he’s interested, you know.” Marissa said as Abigail started folding a napkin into a mini paper hat. "yeah, Way to go Will." Abigail piped up mischievously. 

Will blushed, feeling like he was in his own teens again, being teased by his fellows about his first crush. Although he'd never had that many there to do the teasing. “I know.”

“Good, then you should be fine tonight.” Marissa said with a shrug, and Will wanted to tell her it wasn’t that simple, but he realized- it _was._ It was that simple. Hannibal was interested in Will and Will was interested back, they were both adults, both intereated. It’s nothing he hadn’t dealt with before and he smiled at Marissa for it.

“Thanks, Marissa.”

“No problem.” She said, and grinned as Abigail leaned into Will’s space to place the tiny paper hat on his head.

It was amazing how just spending time with two teenage girls had helped him.

Will was going to have to do this more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just needed some Will and Abigail time and bringing Marissa in seemed like a good idea. Also, i'm sorry for using 'icecream stand' to describe a icecream parlor but honestly fight me because i've said it my entire life.
> 
> Also, big question here- Should i make Hannibal a cannibal in this verse?? Let me know. I have trouble making up my mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly gets her time in before the date, and then- the date itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this is mostly me screaming and writing fluffy cannibal crap. By the way, Hannibal is going to be a cannibal in this fic but only suggested in that sultry way i do.  
> Still unbeta'd, but a bit longer then what i usually think i do. Good luck.
> 
> HERE; THE LINK TO THE KOREAN HANNIBAL PROMO https://www.facebook.com/AXNHannibal/videos/vb.166442766841685/494909020661723/?type=2&theater  
> TREAT YOURSELF

It was five forty seven when Beverly showed up with business in her eyes and purpose in her step.

She practically shoved Will up the stairs and into his room, past Abigail who poked her head out of her own room so see what the ruckus was. By rukus, mostly Will trying to grab onto things and Beverly threatening to drag him by his hair where perusing him up the creaky staircase. Abigail was obviously reporting to Marissa, who had opted to sleepover the night, something that’d never happened that the girls were rather excited about.

Closing the door, Beverly turned, placing her hands on her hips as she took a brief moment to look him up and down before saying, “Strip.”

“Pardon?” Will spluttered. And Beverly made an impatient noise, as if Will was being unreasonable.

“You heard me Graham, clothes off. You can keep the underwear, mostly because it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Seeing him still staring in shock at her she raised her eyebrows. “Step to it or I’ll do it for you, and you _know_ i will."

Will grimaced, realizing she was taking up the challenge of 'date dressing', before starting to unbutton his shirt. He hesitated before pulling it off his shoulders though, not that Beverly hadn’t seen him shirtless before- It'd been a year ago when his mind was a burning fire from Encephalitis and he stopped taking care of himself and being the mother hen she was, she'd dragged him back to her place one day after work and told him to take a shower there so she knew he did. He'd been sick from lack of food and sleep, spacing out quicker than usual, he'd slipped and fallen. The colossal amount of noise he'd made from bringing down half the shampoo bottles with him had alerted her to his mishap.

He’d managed to scramble out and get a towel around his waist before Beverly came crashing through the door. Luckily, he’d only bruised a few ribs, but when she’d banged in and saw Will square on like a deer caught in headlights, what hid under all those layers forever marked on his pale skin, it bruised him more mentally then physically, even after she promised never to tell another soul.

Even as he stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside and she racked her gaze over him, she failed to hide her wince. Littered with scars in different shapes and sizes- some smaller circles others long thin cuts, one on his hip that looked like a scoop of flesh and been taken away, one on his shoulder from being stabbed as a cop, there more then he’d ever bothered to count. His back was worse, a mess of scar tissue over his shoulder blades creating an ugly picture.

Beverly had never stopped asking what had happened, and even when he finally told her, he knew how much if affected her, but she still treated him the same no matter what. It’s what had brought them closer.

“Pants too, pretty boy.” She said lightly, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Are you planning to strip me off my dignity too?” He said jokingly, trying to lighten the dark mood that seemed to have appear when he became exposed.

“Nah, you don’t need me for that.” She said, just as teasingly with an added wink. Instead, she pulled her shoulder bag out and pulled a wad of jeans out and tossed them at him, they hit him square in the chest before falling into his hands. “These belonged to my ex, try them on and tell me if they fit.”

Will frowned, holding them up by the waistband and letting them untangle themselves. They were a dark blue, slightly faded around the knees, probably meant to be tight over the ass. “These look a size too big for me.”

“Good, you can wear a belt. Belts are sexy.” She said as she moved to his closet and opened the door. He rolled his eyes at her back.

“Huh, and I expected it to be a mess.” She said, no change in her bright tone and she shuffled through the side drawers. “Nice IKEA organizer though. Really screams bachelor.”

“Thanks.” Will said dryly as he stepped into the jeans and hopped slightly to pull them up his legs.

“Hey, what’re these?” Will looked up at her inquiry to see her holding up a plain white box he’d kept at the bottom of his closet. “Oh don’t-” but naturally it was too late, and she already  set it down on the bed and had it open to look through it.

“Dude is this- is this a tux?” She said in surprise, running her fingers over the dark but yet surprisingly silky smooth material.

“I go places too, you know.” He said, giving his a droll look. She snorted, causing him to place a hand over his heart and give her a look of mock offence.

“There’s a lot of nice things in here Will, when the hell did you get this stuff?” she said, rifling through it. It wasn’t a lot, but it was still enough for her to be entertained by it and the fact it was hidden away to collect dust.

“Presents over years.” Will said with a shrug. Sometimes on birthday or holidays he’d get a nice shirt, or an expensive looking sweater. His box was a way to not feel guilty about receiving such things that he felt he didn't deserve. Even now he felt guilty about knowing he put nice things in a _box_ because he was uncomfortable with them.

“Whoa, hey, how about this.” She said, rising from where she sat on the edge of the bed to hold up a dusky silver-blue dress shirt. It was simple, sleek and had a nice slight shimmer in the material. “Who gave you this one?”

“Alana.” He mumbled. “Last Christmas.”

She gaped at him. “And you haven’t _worn_ it? It’s _sexy_.”

“That is probably the last thing I’ve ever wanted to hear out of your mouth to describe something i own.” He said putting his hands in the pockets of the jeans that actually didn’t fit that bad. The waistband was loose, sure, but they weren’t too tight or showy anywhere and let him move easily. Stooping down and grabbing his regular belt from the floor, he wound it through the belt loops, opting to wear the pants anyway.

“Wait, hold this.” She said, pushing the shirt into his hand surprised hands and closing the box. Placing it back where it was before, she rifled through his blazers and jackets -a small yet fulfilling amount- and pulled out a gunmetal colored blazer that she practically threw it at him. “Get that on too.”

Sighing in irritation but not wanting to test Beverly. He buttoned himself into the shirt and tucked it in before pulling the jacket on as well. Beverly took one good look at him and whistled. “Damn Graham, if I didn’t treasure our friendship or know you at all I’d definitely try to toot your horn.”

“Beverly.” Will drawled, giving her a dry look that was replied to with an innocent one from her.

“Now just that hair.” She murmured as she paced forward, crossing her arms to start at his head in contemplation. “Thank god you got a haircut recently.”

“Mostly because if you or Abigail made one more puppy comment I was going to shave it myself.” Will grumbled and Beverly pouted at him. “You made an adorable puppy though.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. She approached, nearly the same height as him and occasionally taller in heels, it was easy for her to run her fingers into his hair to tame it, styling it slightly but so it still had that wild look. “Perfect.” She said, stepping back. “By the end of the night he’ll want you on your knees so bad he’ll-”

“ _Beverly_ ” Will said, voice slightly distressed as he stressed the word and blushed.

“Oh, speaking of, do you want me to hang around here tonight?” She asked, swapping topics so fast he thought he might get whiplash from it all. Taking each of his arms in turn to straighten the cuffs and sleeves out, Beverly waited for an answer. Will frowned. “Why would you need to do that?”

“In case you spend the night.” She said with a shrug, saying it in a casual tone that Will would personally reserve for sentences like ' _taking a walk in the park_ ' or ' _Playing marco-polo in a pool_ ', not 'In  _case you stay the night_ '. It was practically perverse, making Will squirmed slightly. “It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah,” She said, looking directly into his eyes while patting his hand. “That’s what they all say. Then the next thing you know, you’ll be making out against the kitchen counter.”

“As long as we aren’t using olive oil as lube.” He responds before he could stop himself and Beverly’s eyes widen temporarily before they glitter with pride.

“He has a sense of humor!” she exclaimed dramatically shaking him by the shoulders. “Oh ye god, what next, emotions?!”

“Shut up.” He said laughingly as he shook her off and turned to grab his shoes. “Oxfords. Good choice.” Beverly said approvingly behind him as he straightened. As she passed Will on her way to the bedroom door, she commented; “And you can keep those jeans. They make your ass look great.” Followed by actually smacking him none too gently on the ass which made him emit a yipping sound and jump.

“That’s sexual harassment you know.” He called after her as she opened the door and headed down the stairs.

“If you were going to call the police on my sexual harassment you would've done it the minute we met.” She called back and Will grinned, shaking his head. Sitting down and pulling on his shoes, he tried to ignore the shiver of anticipation and fear that crawled through him. Will followed her path down the stars, feeling odd without his usual thick layers on. When he exited the staircase into the living room, both Abigail and Marissa were sprawled over the couch watching TV and Beverly had tossed herself down into the slouching armchair.

Abigail looked over her shoulder at Will. “Wow, you actually look pretty great.” Marissa made a noise of approval, looking Will up and down as well and smiling politely at him.

“You think?” Will said, unsure. Both Beverly and Abigail snorted at the comment.

“Definitely. He’ll love it without a doubt.” Abigail said with a comforting smile. Remembering to check his watch, Will sighed. He’d have to leave now if he wanted to make it. “I’ve got to head out now.” He said before looking back at Beverly. “Walk me out?"

“Sure.” She said, hopping herself off the chair to follow him. As they left the through the front door Will heard Marissa murmur; “Like parents waving their kids off as they leave for college.” And Abigail laughing.

Once at Will’s car, he turned to Beverly. “I want to take you up on you staying here with them.”

Although her eyebrows rose in surprise she nodded. “Alright. I’ll order some take out and we’ll make rootbeer floats while watching Mean Girls.” Will snorted, shaking his head, and nearly jumped when Beverly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yeah.” Will murmured, a small smile curling on his lips as he ducked his head. “I know.”

“Good luck.” She said. Heading back for the porch, Will was about to step into his car when she called back. “Hey Will?”

“Yeah?” He said pausing to look up at her. Her eyes glinted happily and she grinned wickedly.

“Use protection.”

* * *

Will arrived few minutes before seven, quietly thanking whatever lord existed that he wasn’t late.

Hannibal’s house was grand- a towering thing, dark brick and large windows, while also painting a picture of beautiful but menacing architecture. Will instantly took a liking to it. It suited the man.

Walking up the front steps, Will felt a tightness at the back of his throat as he reached up to knock. After what felt like hours but was really a minute or two, Hannibal opened it. He was dressed down, the apron around his waist making it obvious that he must’ve still been making dinner.

“Will, come in.” He said, stepping aside and gesturing for Will to step past him inside. And how incredible inside was- dark, yes, but incredible. Golds black and reds created a warm feel, the room was large and open, tall bookshelf’s and dark hardwood.

“I’m sorry If I’m early.”

“It is quite fine, I was just finishing up if you’d like to join me in the kitchen.” Hannibal said, and Will followed. “I don’t see why not. I’ll warn you though, you should ask me to watch anything because it’ll burn.”

Hannibal smiled over his shoulder at Will, who felt butterflies in his stomach. He silently wished they’d burn in the stomach acid and leave him alone as he smiled back.

Hannibal’s kitchen was like the rest of his house, the smell of spices that were foreign to Will hits him flat out, but they weren’t over powering. Will leaned against the island and watched as Hannibal moved to the stove where the pot sat.

“So, to spare us from silence, how was your day Will?”

“I got icecream with some friends. New place opened.” Will couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to mention Abigail was more than a friend- a surrogate daughter at the least and adopted one at the most. “Then the one that accepted the coffee date for me came over and forcefully dressed me.”

“Well,” Hannibal said, turning to face Will, slowly looking him up and down, his eyes snagging more than one of his exposed neck and jawline, then sticking to his lips for a few moments before travelling to his eyes. “I have to agree with her taste. You look delightful.”

“Thank you.” Will said, blushing under the praise.

“Would you like to wait in the dining room while I bring this out?”

“Oh, yeah, uh sure. Through there?” He said, pointing at a pair of doors before going through them when Hannibal inclined his head. The table was long, meant for a crowd and was probably expensive- Hell everything in Hannibal's home was expensive. Guessing from the two set plates at the end of the table were for them he took at seat, using the time to look around the room. It was elegant, a deep cobalt blue color with herb boxes built into the wall behind him, There was a fireplace as well, at the end of the room, and over it was-

_Oh dear god._

Looking anywhere but at the picture, he swallowed hard. He was ready and prepared for that eye bleach he’d been thinking about after the run-in with Marissa, hell, right now someone could just give him a spoon and he’d find his own mercy in gouging out his eyes. Hannibal entered then, holding two plates which were a welcome distraction to what he'd just seen. His waistcoat and jacket had been returned, showing a fantastic dark blue three-piece suit with dark yellow-brown plaid. Both the tie and shirt underneath were a pale blue. He looked fantastic, per usual.

Setting a plate down in front of Will he said, “What you’re going to be eating is _Avienos kepsnys_ which translates to _Roast Leg of Lamb_. Prepared by soaking the lamb in buttermilk for four hours before seasoning and baking for one hour. On the side are lemon and sage baked potatoes, and by the recipes request; dill pickles.”

“This sounds incredible.” Will murmurs, as he looks down at his plate. He swore he'd seen people less pretty then the way the plate was set and he held no guilt in taking a slice of the lamb and taking a bite. The groan escaped his mouth faster than he could stop it and Hannibal laughed at his vigor. “I presume this means you like it?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Will said, his mouth was dancing with flavors- garlic, the bitterness of the milk, the peppery taste of bay leaves. It was all extravagant and Will loved it. “I’ve never tasted lamb like this before, it's quite interesting.”

“It is what has been titled as a ‘free range’ lamb. I am in contact with an ethical butcher who makes sure they live a healthy calm life before the butchery.” Hannibal said with a glint of pride and something else that Will couldn’t decipher in his eyes. “I have been told that this was a particularly sneaky but chatty lamb.”

“Well, I feel like I’m being pampered.” Will said as he failed to hide his delight at how wonderful the food was, glancing up at Hannibal, who also looked up and smiled at Will. “You deserve to be.”

Will gave out a short huff of a laugh. “I’m not quite sure about that.”

“Why ever not?” There was genuine curiosity behind those deep maroon eyes, wondering why Will would think so lowly of himself.

“I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.” Will said, his voice dropping it's light tone, not looking up at Hannibal he cut another slice. He was practically inhaling it at this rate. “Said some things.”

“That doesn’t diminish a person’s desire to be treated well by others or themselves.” Hannibal said, following Will actions and taking another bite of his own food. He smiled indulgently at Will. “Do you treat yourself well, Will?”

The honest answer would be no. He took too much of his medication, didn’t sleep enough and probably wouldn’t eat much either if the fridge wasn’t always stocked to remind him, not to mention he would've drank his liver to death by now if Beverly and Abigail hadn't began to police his alcohol consumption. “I do my best.” He replied, deciding to avoid the yes-or-no answer. “And what about you, do you treat yourself well?” He murmured with interest, taking a sip of his wine. _‘A Marie Zelie Pinot Noir, heightens the flavoring of the lamb and has a slightly bittersweet aftertaste.’_ As Hannibal had described. And it was true, the tang was as welcome as the sweetness.

“I do my best.” Hannibal replied slyly, quoting back Will’s own words, making the man laugh. The rest of the dinner went spectacularly, getting into the conversation of both Hannibal’s and Will’s jobs, hobbies, and even a little into stories or happenings in their lives- Hannibal shared one about him and Alana while he was still her professor, and Will shared his favorite one about Beverly.

“So Beverly, about a week after i met her, she wakes me up at at two in the morning after picking my lock, with two of our other coworkers, beer and pizza, telling me to get up and join them to watch Caddy Shack as a celebration for solving our first case together.” Will said whilst grinning as he set down his utensils and ran a hand through his hair. “She went through my file to find my address and even picked the lock. Not very legal for some FBI agents. I nearly kicked the three of them out for it.”

“It sounds like this Beverly cares about you.” Hannibal said interestedly and Will nodded. “She has my best interests at heart. I think she’d like to meet you.” He added the last part while grinning and shakng his head. He knew Beverly would love to, and she'd do her very best to make Hannibal as uncomfortable as possible for the hell of it.

“Well maybe one day you can bring her to my table.” Hannibal said, raising the last of his wine in a mock of ‘cheers’ and downing the rest in a fluid motion. Will’s eyes traveled down to his tanned neck, watching the muscles move as he swallowed. Was everything about this man so perfect?

Will desperately wanted to find out.

“Would you like me to help you take these to the kitchen?” Will offered as Hannibal began to stand, the man paused before smiling again. Will was becoming fond of that smile. “Yes, please Will that would be helpful of you.”

Will inclined his head as he stood, gathering his plate, utensils, and his glass before following Hannibal into the kitchen. Will looked around the room and spotted the dishwasher, but noticed Hannibal going to the sink. Will quickly got the message that he was washing by hand instead and asked, “You wash I dry?”

“If you wish. You can leave your jacket on one of the stool backs to keep from messing it, or I could take it to the front closet.” Hannibal said and he removed his own jacket. Will tried to keep his gaze steady on Hannibal’s face, but was being distracted by the muscle he could see working under the dress shirt arms. He swallowed. “Here is fine.”

Hannibal nodded and placed his own jacket and waistcoat on the back of the closest stool and began to roll of his sleeves. Will, to distract himself from his ever-growing attraction towards this man that he didn’t need to get any bigger, folded his jacket in half and laid it over the seat.

It didn’t take long for them to finish the dishes, but to Will is felt like forever. The little brushes of their arms , the glances and small smiles, eyes wandering each other’s faces when they thought the other didn’t see it, the touch of finger tips has Hannibal passed him another plate. Will swore at one point Hannibal ran the side of his finger down Will’s.

Just before Hannibal drained the water from the sink, Will leaned around him to take a handful of remaining soap bubbles, holding them up with a grin, he shook his hand slightly so they jiggled in his palm. Hannibal huffed, taking a finger and pulling a small piece off to place on Will’s nose, who went cross eyed to watch.

After they finished acting like children and washed their hands, they migrated into Hannibal’s dark livingroom to start a fire and drink probably the most expensive taking whiskey Will had ever ingested.

“So,” Will murmured, feeling it was appropriate to speak in a low tone. The fire crackled in front of him. Both he and Hannibal sat in armchairs, a small table between them and facing the fire. It was warm, the orange light casting shadows over the sharp planes of their faces. Hannibal looked hauntingly beautiful in this lighting. “You mentioned you have a cat?”

Hannibal made a noise in the back of his throat that seemed to be a ‘yes’ before he spoke. “I asked Alana to watch her for the night.” He licked his lips before taking another sip of his drink. Will was reminded of how he'd agreed to Beverly watching Abigail and Marissa for the night. It seems both he and Hannibal had the same thing in mind.

“And why is that.” Will said, a slight smile etching his lips, wanting to hear what Hannibal had to say for himself.

“Because,” Hannibal said, placing his glass down on the dainty table before turning slightly in his seat to look at Will. “She tends to bother my guests. She likes attention.”

“And I presume the only person that will be receiving my attention while here is you?” Will said while grinning, casting a glance towards the soft lines around Hannibal's eyes, then his eyes themselves. Like deep pits, they held secrets upon secrets. 

“Yes.” Hannibal said without any embarrassment, just straight honesty. Will swallowed hard before diverting his gaze to his glass. The amber of the liquid was illuminated by the orange of the fire.

“You are very distracting, so I doubt you needed to worry.” Will murmured in response. He heard Hannibal shift slightly, as if in surprise and eager to hear more.

“Distracting how, Will?” Hannibal asked, confirming his theory.

“Physically.” Will said in replied, voice a little louder this time, even with his head stooped he could feel the burn of Hannibal’s gaze on his neck. “Mentally just as much, but definitely physically.” 

Will nearly jumped when Hannibal stood, but didn't look up at him. When Hannibal and crouched down in front of him, he placed one his he long fingered hands onto Will’s knee, gently as if Will might jump, but in a way that Will could easily reject it. He didn’t.

Hannibal looked at Will and tilted his head. From where Will was sitting, leaned forward in his chair with his head ducked, Hannibal had positioned himself so his face was mere inches away. He cocked his head to the side and his maroon gaze danced over Will’s, silently teasing of what they both knew were to come.

They stayed like that. Neither of them moving, just watching each other. Finally, Will tossed caution to the wind. Taking a last sip from his whiskey, he turned slightly to set it aside and turned back to Hannibal. Reaching out, he gently ran his fingers over the man’s sharply defined cheekbone before laying his palm flatly upon it, Hannibal closed his eyes and leaning into the touch, inhaling the scent of Will's skin.

Will knew the exact moment he was going to kiss Hannibal, and Hannibal seemed to know as well. He leans forward, swift but slow to press his lips to the other man’s. Hannibal was the one to deepen it, soft and warm, Will felt like he was floating on air, the sharp bite of whiskey still clung to Hannibal's lips as it did to Will's and no amount of it in the world could taste better than it did now. Maybe it was the alcohol hitting his system, he didn’t know, but when he felt Hannibal’s tongue slide across his, he practically purred in appreciation. How long had it _been_? Since he’d been with someone? Since he’d felt this?

Too long.

Will felt a hand in his hair, but kept his on Hannibal’s cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb. They stayed, lip sealed, soft noises as their tongues snuck into each other's mouths and teeth nips at lips. As the kiss finally broke apart with a final scrap of Hannibal's teeth across Will’s bottom lip, Hannibal leaned his forehead against Will’s and they caught their breath together. It'd been one of the best kisses Will has had in years, and he was ready to do it again.

“I like you, Hannibal.” Will said, voice barely audible. He felt a tiny tremor go through Hannibal- a laugh.

“I quite like you myself, Will.” The amusement in his tone made Will smile as well.

“So,” Will said as Hannibal nudged his face up to touch their lips together again. When Will spoke, his lips just brushed his. “What does that make us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Casually cuts off this chapter when it finally gets good] Are they gonna sleep together in this next chapter or will it happen later? Who knows? Not you.  
> Will's scars will be explained eventually, the portrait over the fireplace is Leda and the Swan (Because only Hannibal would have something that perverse in his fucking dining room), Avienos kepsnys is a actual Lithuanian dish, and the reason Will thought the lamb didn't taste lamby is because it was human. (Lamb has a certain taste you can't really cover with spice so @Hannibal Lecter fight me)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal's date gets interrupted by Jack, who needs Will to profile ASAP. Because it's just Will's luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just feel like this is a shitty chapter, i don't know why, then again i think this entire thing if shitty. Also, i felt like there wasn't any murder happening here so i figured 'Hey, just ruin Hannibal's and Will's date. They can screw later'.  
> It's also pretty short and still unbeta'd. Plus, this was my first time writing a kiss scene, so go me.

 

“ _Anything you want us to be_.” It was a quiet response, but Will felt like Hannibal had shouted it from the way it rung in his ears and bounced around in his head. Will wasn’t sure which one of them had leaned in this time, but their kiss started up with a new fiery vigor, the first time it’d been curiosity mostly ‘ _What would happen if shut us both up for more than ten minutes by putting my mouth on his mouth_ ’, but this time something was hidden behind it, just out of reach and infecting them both like a potent drug.

The smell of burning oak logs, the headiness of the whiskey, and the peppery sweet scent of Hannibal’s cologne added to the crackling tension between them was making the air practically unbearable to breathe when Will took short gasps it in between the times their lips were together, the fire in his bones was matching the one dancing in embers just mere feet from him. At one point, Will wound his fingers into Hannibal’s hair at one point, finding a small bit of pleasure for messing neat parting.

Hannibal has moved forward, now between Will’s knees instead of in front of them, giving him the chance to run on hand over Will’s back, feel the muscles dancing there, making Will emit a small nose that was responded to by one of Hannibal’s own. There was barely any room between them now, Will was practically hyperventilating at how wonderful this was, how wonderful it all was-

Until his phone rang. Will jumped, pulling away with a frown from Hannibal. He was disappointed as he felt Hannibal’s hands slide away from him to pull back and stare at Will’s phone, vibrating insistently on the side table. Realizing how close to the edge of his seat he was, Will slide back a little and pulled his phone it’s spot, avoiding Hannibal’s gaze as he blushed. _God, he was kissing the man he’d met less than two weeks ago…_

“Hello?”

“Will?” The minute Will heard the voice he groaned. Jack Crawford. Putting up a finger to Hannibal to indicate one minute, Hannibal nodded and stood, moving out of the way for Will to get up and walk over to the open kitchen door for privacy.

 “What is it Jack?” He hissed, not trying to hide his displeasure at the interruption.

“The Ripper, we just found another victim.” Will froze, eyes widening. The _Ripper_? It’s been months since he’d last struck, and now sudden he reoccurs, completely out of pattern, leaving a victim? “How old is the body?”

“Couple days at most, today at the least. We've already called forensics, we need you here ASAP.”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock at night Jack.” Will grated, pushing a hand through his hair in agitation.

“I need you to look at this crime scene before he strikes again, you know his pattern he-”

“Strikes in threes. And we can’t lose him again” Will said, finishing Jack’s sentence that he knew all too well from hearing it in various tones of angry shouts. “Text me the place I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Jack agreed, and Will hung up without a farewell. Closing his eyes he leaned his head back against the wall. Naturally, the minute things start getting good between him and Hannibal, the promise of something more to happen, the damn _Ripper_ decides to fuck it up for him. His phone buzzed, indicating he’d been delivered the address. Deciding to face Hannibal with the news, he turned and left the kitchen. Hannibal had taken up residence in front of the fire, staring into it's burning embers. He turned as Will approached.

“I apologize, I’m going to have to cut this short.” Will said with a grimace.

“May I ask why?” Hannibal asked, cocking his head, face betraying no emotion. Sighing in agitation, Will pulled on his jacket which he’d left beside the chair. “Have you heard of the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“I have heard of him, yes.”

“Well he decided tonight was a _great_ night to hack somebody up and dump them somewhere.” Will said the words with dripping sarcasm. It was easy to say he was pissed off.

“So it was a work call.” Hannibal elaborated and Will nodded. Standing face to face, Will didn’t quite know what to say, so instead he asked, “Walk me to the door?”

Hannibal inclined his head. “Surely.”

Will held his hands in his pockets as he made the short trip through Hannibal’s house, the man himself beside him. He felt guilty about ending it there, making him seem like a ‘tease’ as Beverly would put it. _She’s definitely rubbing off on me._

When they reached the door, Will paused before exiting, turning to Hannibal he grinned, that blushy feeling coming over him. He was fucking _shy._ “Thank you for dinner tonight. It was great.”

“I appreciated your company.” He said, smiling. Will couldn’t help it, leaning forward to leave a smoldering kiss on his lips before turning and going.

Hannibal hadn’t asked Will if he was safe to drive, but Will knew it was because Hannibal could sense that Will had driven after drinking a whole lot more than a glass of wine and some whiskey before. He was reckless, he knew, and as a FBI special agent it was incredibly irresponsible, but his past was the past and he couldn’t wash it clean.

Opting to take a few breath mints out of the container in the cup holder of his car, Will started driving, following the instructions to the crime scene. It was in Baltimore, a form of cruel blessing at the fact he only have to drive twenty five minutes to find the building.

It was tall, an old factory converted to rustic apartments. The FBI cars were swarmed around, people milling between them like bugs, from confused tenants to purposeful agents. As Will pulled up and exited his car, an agent jogged up to his him, as he approached Will, he straightened to show his full height in unnecessary dominance. It’s not like he needed too, Will was shorter than him anyway. “I’m sorry civilians aren’t allowed in at the moment sir.”

“I’m not a civilian. Jack Crawford sent for me.” Will said, too tired to be impatient, but not tired enough to be pissy.

“I’ll need some identification then, sir.”

_Oh my god._ At that second Will was saved from telling the poor guy what to do with that question by another agent, this one Will recognized. With shiny blonde hair and a slight lean in her walk from the weight of her false arm, Miriam Lass was like a blessing in a reasonable pantsuit at this moment. “It’s alright Stewart, Crawford sent me to wait for Mr. Graham.”

Will gave agent Stewart a tight ‘ _I told you’_ kind of smile before following Miriam and ignored the glare he receive. Miriam’s pace was impressive, leaving Will little time to catch up or listen. “There’s only a hundred and four residents in the building now, we’re currently clearing them out to keep it easy for our agents.”

“Where was the victim found?”

“One of the rooms; 104 in particular” She said, walking through the lobby, a nice place with open brick walls and artistic pieces on the wall. “She was ID just about twenty minutes ago, Tracy Kattaliks, thirty-nine, a realtor. She was the one selling the room she was found in.”

Miriam led him into an elevator, pressing the button for the third floor. The exact moment that Will asked “Time?” Miriam Lass announced “She was found at nine o’four.” Making them both pause to stare at each other in slight surprise.

The elevator door dinged open to a hallways that had FBI agents skittering around like rodents, walking back and forth, exiting and entering probably what was the eighth door down. Will followed Miriam to it, agents stepping aside as they approached.

Inside, she lead him through the spacey living area towards must must’ve been the master bedroom. Once there, she paused and Will got the gist by listening to where the voices were coming from, heading into the bathroom.

It was spacious, meant to look vintage to fit in with the popular trend. Already in there was Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian. Jack stood off to one side, when he saw Will he didn’t say anything. Beverly created him with a slight smile.

In the Victorian style bathtub, Tracy lay in a pool of water that covered her up to her defined collar bone. Her head was leant back, a long thing cut over her throat exposed, stretched open from the way her neck was bent but yet clean of blood. For a second Will thought that the water was green only to realize that it was a layer of small leaves spread over the top.

“This isn’t bath water,” Jimmy announced, coming up from a crouch on the other end of the bathtub, holding up a vial before looking around at them all. “It’s _pond_ water. Ripper must’ve brought it with him.”

“Which means that he didn’t blitz her while she was in the tub.” Beverly murmured. Pacing around the tub.  “There would be water on the floor if he had.” Will pointed out and she nodded in agreement. “And blood.” She added.

 “How do we know it’s a Ripper victim?” Will asked, his arms crossed. Brian answered this time, looking up from where he was kneeling with his arm elbow deep into the water, disturbing the leaves upon its surface. “No legs. Tongue is missing too.” He added, gesturing towards the mouth of the victim. “We don’t know many serial killers who do that. It also matches the surgical precision of previous victims as well.”

“That’s not like the Ripper. Taking the tongue” Beverly said with interest, approaching her mouth to part the lips to examine the missing tongue. “He doesn’t usually take more than what he needs.”

“Maybe it wasn’t on the basis of what he needed but what he _wanted._ Her tongue only spilt lies so he did it an honor and removed it from the protection of her poisonous lips.” Will remarked, earning looks from both Brian and Jimmy. They’d never quite gotten used to how quickly Will caught onto the killers they chased. Almost too quickly.

“So what was she lying about? What does the Ripper know about her that we don’t?” Jack said, raising one hand before letting it drop, his own show of aggravation towards Will, who was equally as tired and irritated as he was. He was saved from an equally bitter and probably sarcastic reply by Jimmy asking another agent for a file on the victim, when he received it he began to read it aloud for them all to hear.

“She was up to date on her bills, healthy life, no enemies. There was an altercation about fifteen years ago, hit and killed her _sister_ on accident with her parents’ car but it was cleared up that it was just an accident.”

“So wait,” Brian said, cutting in. “She hit and killed her sister but didn’t go to trial?”

“ _Mmmm_ , nope,” Jimmy said, reading over the assessment, popping the ‘p’ of his last word while shaking his head. He suddenly made a noise of understanding before closing the file. “Her father was head of police.”

“Of course,” Will murmurs. “Sister kills sister, there’s going to be an investigation, but with a father on the police force who has paternal instincts to protect his children, he can easily wipe this all away.” Will paced forward slightly, needing to move as he spoke. It always made it easier. “Which means she could have very easily purposely done what she’d did. Do another check to see if she has any history of bipolar or anger issues as well as check to see if the sister lived long enough to be brought to the hospital and tell someone the truth before she died.”

“Which would further confirm out surgeon theory,” Beverly said, glancing at Will with a grin. “She could’ve told him the truth while he operated on her.”

Jack turned to Will now, and Will already had the answer ready in the form of a nod. With a final shout of ‘clear the room’, everyone left, the door being shut behind them.

Sliding his glasses off, he placed them into his pocket. How he hated to look, detach from his wonderful evening to watch the brutalization of another person, whether they were innocent or not so much, if only this had been another night. The idea of what he and Hannibal could be doing if he wasn't here sent a shiver down to an area he _really_ shouldn't be thinking about when five feet from a body. He knew that tonight he'd not only go home frustrated, but plagued by this women's death rather then thoughts of Hannibal.

_'I’d rather have wet dreams over nightmares. Fucking Ripper.'_ Was the last thing Will Graham thought before he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, and let the pendant swing.

 

* * *

 

When Will exited the bathroom, three agents brushed by him to continue their DNA brushing and picture taking. Beverly waited with her arms crossed, talking quietly to Brian and Zeller.

She glanced up when she saw Will exit and forcefully jam his glasses back onto his face, waving him up to her. Sighing, he approached.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you but Jack said he would. I left Abigail and Marissa with some Chinese food. They should be fine when you get back.” Will nodded, his eyes darting from her to different points of the room. “So how was your date?”

“Fine until Jack interrupted.” Will said with a sigh, ignoring the way both Brian and Jimmy looked between Beverly and Will with a mix of shock and disbelief. “He caught us in the middle of something.” He added the last part dryly, mostly for Beverly’s amusement as he cleaned his glasses on his jacket.

Beverly’s grin was wide and she smacked him on the arm, obviously amused by his last jibe. "Going home sexually frustrated then, huh?"

Will made a noise in the back of his throat in response to her statement, pretending he hadn't fully heard it. Brain, whose brain was obviously overloading from the previous information practically choked as he asked; “You went on a date? With _who?”_

“A foreign psychiatrist.” Beverly said casually, but the pride rippling through her voice was undeniable.

Brian, who shared some of Beverly’s more inappropriate mind set had a slowly developing grin on his face. Slapping Will on the back he laughed. “Way to go Graham, do we know this unfortunate lady?”

“ _Brian_.” Jimmy chided, but he was equally interested.

“No,” Will said before Beverly could pipe up for him. Will still wasn't sure it he was comfortable being do open about his two sided sexuality yet. “Probably not.”

“Damn shame.” Brian said, shaking his head. “Well if you ever need any advice on how to make her howl, just shoot me a message.” He said with a wink before walking off. Jimmy watched after him, the look on his face practically wistful. Sometimes Will felt bad for the guy, being so hopelessly in love for a man who didn’t even know it. Beverly and Will shared a look, hiding it quickly when Jimmy turned to them again, trying to wipe his own face clean of emotions, but he can’t quite hide that glint in his eyes that reveal the truth.

“I should probably go after him, make sure he doesn’t contaminate the samples.” Jimmy said awkwardly, both Will and Beverly scrambled around for words, mumbling out ‘sures’ and ‘oh yeahs’. Once he was gone, Will shook his head at Beverly.

“I feel bad for him,” Beverly murmured, turning to face Will directly, mostly to indicate to those around them it was private. “This crush on Brian is going to get him nowhere, especially with Brian’s sexuality crisis.”

Will made a noise of agreement and Beverly sighed. “Well, he’ll find his own Hannibal soon enough. After all, give it a few months and _you’ll_ be looking at Hannibal like that.” She said before brushing past Will with a pat on the shoulder, leaving him behind to splutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly i had no idea writing murder was so appealing. As for Brian and Jimmy, well they'll figure themselves out. probably drunk. At a Christmas FBI bar party. Maybe in some upcoming chapters. As i promised, Will's scars will be explained but i never said when so suffer from curiosity.  
> I also really like making Will angry at the Ripper because Will, you are literally DATING HIM.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes home upset and Abigail referees him back into shape just by talking to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly i've been thinking about what i'm going to do with this fic other then use to to procrastinate homework; and honestly, my mind just created the most complex, mind-blowing plot that i didn't even see coming but and already rearing to make. So just a warning.  
> Still unbeta'd, still listening to horrible music while doing this.  
> RIP- This is a short chapter. Mostly cause i'm lazy and last one was kinda long.

The first place Will went when he got home was his whiskey bottle. Not the cheap one, but the etched crystal one he kept in the top of one of the emptier kitchen pantries. It had come with three glasses, inherited from his father, it was only deserving to hold the best of whiskey. The strongest.

And right now, Will Graham needed the strongest thing he could get.

The first glass was more like a shot, he knocked it back before refilling the glass another inch and doing the same. It was around one in the morning- Jack had held him up longer than necessary, making him angrier and bitter more and more by the second. By the time he’d reached home he’d slammed his car door so hard he’d sworn the entire vehicle shook, but took care with the house door, not wanting to wake Abigail or Marissa.

Will opted for the couch instead of the creaky stepped climb to his room, and pressed himself into one corner to stretch a leg out over the seats and leave the other propped against the floor. Lowering one arm comfortably over the back of the couch, he used the other to bring the glass to his lips and take doses of heady whiskey into his system. Tonight was the night to get plastered, the good ol’ fashioned way.

Letting his head fall back against the cushion, he sat in complete darkness, savoring the throbbing burn the whiskey left in its path down his throat. _Wouldn’t your daddy be proud of you…_ Will snorted, taking another, heavier sip. _Yeah, real hero his boy grew up to be._

His passive-aggressive train of thought was cut off by soft footsteps. Abigail, most likely. He knew she had the habit of waking up in the middle of the night to snack, he’d never minded. It actually eased his mind, hearing his soft footsteps padding down the short creaky stairs so she could get a bowl of Cheerios.

It wasn’t any different tonight, except for when she paused at the bottom, obviously seeing his outline and the glint of the glass in the moonlight as he lifted it to his lips. “Will?”

Will didn’t respond, hoping she’d get the silent message of independence. If she did, she obviously ignored it as she came around the side of the couch to stare at him from a few feet away.

“Will, are you okay?”

His eyes fluttered to her, gaze gliding like butter over her worried features. He went back to staring at the wall. He knew he was being rude, but right now he wanted to be left alone and didn’t want to say anything that could offend her. He’d been known for a loose tongue while agitated, and the alcohol consumption of the night didn’t help it at all.

He tensed as he felt her nestled herself into the opposite corner of the couch and pull her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them and propping her chin upon them to watch Will. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Will didn’t move or say a peep and she sighed. “I take that as a no. Well, I’m going to stay here until you’re ready to talk. You don’t have to do it now, we can even sit here in silence till breakfast if you want, and I just want you to know I’m here.”

Will felt her shuffle, slide across the couch. She rested her head on his shoulder, laying on her side in the little space between him and the couch and laid a hand on his chest. As if to make sure, she also tossed a leg over his ankles and she nuzzled into his shirt. “Annnd, to make sure you don’t try to escape me, I’ll lay on top of you.”

Will snorted, shaking his head and gently moved the arm from along the back of the couch to wrap around her shoulders.  It was easy to say that he adored Abigail, would do anything to make her happy. And right now that paternal instinct seemed to be kicking in as he _itched_ to tell her everything. Instead, he took a gulp of his drink.

“The date got interrupted.” It’s all he said, focusing on the light buzz of his head and Abigail’s thin finger tracing shapes on his shirt. “The Chesapeake Ripper, a victim was found.”

Abigail froze and he heard her sharp intake. After a minute she breathed out and attempted to relax. “Are you sure it’s the Ripper.”

“Positive.” Will murmured, knocking back the rest of his drink in a scorching flood.

“And Hannibal, how was that?” She inquired lightly. Will coughed slightly, making her jump.

“It was fine. If it wasn’t for the Ripper I’d probably be there now still.” He grimaced the minute the words left his mouth- what was that abbreviation Abigail used with Marissa? T-M-I? _Yeah, loose tongue tonight GrahamCrackers…_

Luckily, Abigail took it lightly and laughed slightly. “I figured. I don’t see why you’re embarrassed. You’re a grown man, Will.”

“I think there is plenty to be embarrassed about.” Will grumbled, stroking her shoulder with his thumb.

"I'd like to meet Hannibal." She murmured suddenly and Will was left without a reply. He frowned to himself, withdrawing into his thoughts. What would happen if she met Hannibal? Would she like him or despise him- He wasn't sure if he could keep dating Hannibal is Abigail didn't like him, as stupid as that was, it was important to him what she thought, her being his only family other than Beverly. 

“How is it with Marissa?” Will asked before he could help himself, and there was no denying the tension that flooded Abigail’s back at his question. Her tone reflected the stiffness as well when she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not blind, Abigail.” He murmured, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I _was_ your age once. We all go through the ‘in-love-with-your-best-friend’ stage of life, whether we know it or not.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning nonchalance. Will made a deep ‘mhm’ noise in his throat.

"If you say we all go through it, who was your best friend turned crush?" She asked slyly and Will sighed slightly. 

"I'm an exception."

"Oh really, why's that?"

 _Because i didn't have any friends to develop a crush on until a year and a half ago and none of them are really my type._ Will though to himself. Then again, Hannibal was his type, was he not? Although, from the way both of them had their hands on each other tonight, he doubted friendship was what either of them were aiming for."  “You should probably get back up to bed.” Will said instead, and Abigail didn't miss the conversation blocker, instead of pointing it out, she went along with it.

“Only if you do.” She said, her voice teasing but also completely serious about what she was saying. He knew if he didn’t, she didn’t, and unlike him she was still growing and in dire need of rest.

“I will.” He said before yawning widely. Abigail made a small noise as she pushed herself up, her own eyes tired. “C’mon you Yorkie, up we get.” She said, sitting back on the couch to watch Will sit up from his comfortable spot on the couch.

“If I’m a Yorkie does that make you a Pomeranian?” Will said, grinning lazily at her.

“Yes, and Hannibal is a Great Dane.” She said with a wink as he pulled himself up to his feet. Will snorted. “He’s Lithuanian and a cat person. Besides, what would Beverly be?”

“A black lab. And Marissa would be a poodle.” She said grinning, leading the way up the stairs. Will followed her, surprised at the fact the alcohol hadn’t taken any effect yet. “Jack a bulldog, and Alana…. Alana would be a terrier.”

Will grinned at the comparison, and before he could help himself, he reached out to ruffle her hair like his own father used to do. The both paused, just standing a smiling, then, Abigail put her arms around Will’s neck to pull him into a hug that he didn’t know how to respond to. After the shock wore off, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and pressed his nose into her hair.

They stayed like that for what felt like minutes, and when she pulled back, she patted his cheek lovingly, murmuring a quick ‘goodnight’ before sliding into her room and shutting the door gently.

When Will tucked himself into bed, the smile spreading his face was one of a man confused but happy about his latest ordeal. He felt impenetrable around Abigail- As if nightmares and tortures couldn’t touch something at pure as her.

And with that thought in mind, he slipped off to sleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Will are bonding and we all know what that means, 'All's well that ends- wiTH BRUTAL ANGST AND HEART RIPPING SADDNESS.'  
> Also, Will calling himself 'GrahamCrackers' was out of my sheer my delight.
> 
> You can also stalk me on tumblr under the exact same unsername; http://majesticaljeff.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Will spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some Alana. Still unbeta'd. Still Will being an adorable trainwreck. It's not long- but when are my chapters ever long?  
> As for doing Hannibal POV- I will at some point. Maybe. I dunno.

It’s the dogs that woke Will the next morning.

It wasn’t a particularly bad wake up- the warmth of a small fuzzy body pressed up behind his bent knees, the low murmur of Abigail and Marissa’s voices, the drip of water in the leaky sink in the bathroom next door, and the window drumming gently against his window all combined to create a beautiful serenity, nothing could be more perfect than being under his warm sheets and just absorbing this. It also would be better if his head wasn’t fucking _pounding_ from the whiskey he drank last night. He grimaced at the realization he probably smelt of it too.

It wasn’t until he heard a third female voice that he opened his eyes. It wasn’t Beverly- Beverly would have come upstairs and beat him with a pillow until he woke, then pry him for details of his date. No, this wasn’t her, and as he heard the third voice laugh, he knew exactly who it was.

Will didn’t bother to get dressed, deeming last night’s jeans which he’d slept in acceptable and opted to also put on an old fraying t-shirt. Making his way down the stairs and around the corner into the kitchen, he was confirmed from his voice match.

Alana sat, beautiful as ever at his kitchen counter, her legs crossed in her dark brown pencil skirt that matched the shade of her hair. A jacket still covered her deep indigo blouse, and the boots she still wore told him she wasn’t planning on staying long.

Marissa sat at the small circular table, pressed into the corner by the large window, eating scrambled eggs. Will’s mouth instantly started watering when he realized Abigail was making them- nobody made better scrambled eggs that Abigail. _Nobody_. Will always made sure there was ham and green onion in the house because of it, the two of those being her favorite ingredient for them.

Alana looked up and smiled at Will, although it dimmed when she saw him. He must’ve been quite a sight, because even Abigail tried to hide her grimace when she turned and saw him. Pressing a palm into one eye, Will limped sleepily over to the stool across from Alana’s a sat down.

“You look nice.” He grumbled, attempting to complement her even when his voice easily comparable to gravel.

“You don’t.” She replied, her smoky voice slightly edged with worry. Will snorted as Abigail placed a bottle of Ibuprofen down in front of him along with a mug of coffee. He happily accepted both and murmured a quiet 'thanks' to her.

Alana frowned, watching him down what was probably an unhealthy dose of the medication with the help of the coffee.

“Do you know Hannibal Lecter?”

He choked. Staring at Alana with what he hoped was casual expression after nearly inhaling three fourths a cup of coffee. Even Abigail was staring at Alana from behind with a mixture of shock and surprise. Clearing his throat and placing a hand on his chest as if to silently remind his lungs to do more breathing and less coughing, he answered, “We’ve met, why?”

“He says you and him had dinner together.” Alana said, frowning. Hannibal had told Alana? When? Will wanted to be upset, but then again, he had told not only Beverly, but Abigail about him seeing Hannibal. Being upset would not only be hypocritical and stupid, but incredibly rude.

“I wasn’t aware he told you,” He opted for instead, taking another mouthful of coffee. When she arched one eyebrow, awaiting an answer, he sighed. “Yeah, we did.”

Alana’s intense blue gaze seemed to bore right through him as he continued to stare back almost competitively while sipping his coffee. Finally a smile started to curve her lips. “He’s good for you. You need another friend.”

 _Friend_? Across the room, Marissa snorted into her orange juice. Will turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder at her, and obviously from the way she blushed, Alana and Abigail must also be staring at her too. Will turned back to Alana and gave her a forced, quick smile. Will wasn’t really in the mood to talk- had this been any other time, he’d love to talk to Alana about the doctor, fuck, he'd give her any details she wanted, but right now, he wanted to be left alone. In silence. For eternity.

_Pull yourself together Graham, you’re not even hungover._

No he wasn’t, but right now he’d love to be. It’d be a valid excuse not to be bothered by anybody for any reason.

“Will? _Will?”_ Alana’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes drifted over to hers as she looked at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

 _Now that you mention it I do feel like shit in human form, why?_ He attempted a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’m fine Alana, just thinking.” He murmured before looking around at Abigail and Marissa who both watched and listened curiously. Deciding the only way he was going to get a private word in with Alan was alone, he said, “Let’s take a walk. The dogs need out anyway.”

 

* * *

 

 

The long open fields behind Will’s house were ones Alana and he knew best, the tall grass, wild weeds, and patches of interesting flowers grew in a wiry yellow-green mess that was soon to be covered in snow in the coming month. The dogs ran out in front of them, Will trusting the animals not to wander too far as he and Alana walked through the dewy plant life.

It seems that the thought of snow was on Alana’s mind as well as they walked shoulder to shoulder through the cool field. “This is going to be your second Christmas with Abigail.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Will listened to it and nodded, with December right around the corner, he'd expected this. Both he and Alana could well remember the first one. The first one without her parents by the fireplace, with presents and family. Will had attempted to make her some small comfort, cutting a tree and bringing it home, he’d set it up in one corner and rummaged around in his attic for some old glass Christmas bulbs.

Abigail had come home, seen it, and instantly turned and left. Will hadn’t been upset, he’d never been the holiday type, but the next morning he came downstairs to find her making popcorn garlands on the couch while throwing bits to the dog, using up his fishing wire. She’d been watching _Die Hard_ on a TV channel, acting as if nothing had ever happened the night before.

“It’ll be better this year.” Alana assured, and Will knew she wasn’t wrong. A year’s time had done wonders to his and Abigail’s relationship.

“I know, but I think she’ll probably prefer to spend it with Marissa and her cousin.” Will said, and it wasn’t false- he’d heard Marissa offer, and although Abigail hadn’t answered yes, he knew she’d prefer to spend it with a friend than with an alcoholic with no family that she barely knew. He was a little sad, and it crept into his voice, but that didn’t mean he would spend Christmas alone.

“Isn’t that lonely?” Alana asked, as if reading his thoughts. Will laughed lightly and shrugged, grinning up at the blue of the sky. “It’s not lonely when you have seven dogs, Alana.”

“That’s _exactly_ what someone who was lonely would say.” She said humorously. “Besides, I heard that Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian are getting together like usual, you could join them.”

“ _Nooo_ , I think I’m good.” Will said, practically choking on the first word. He’d seen the pictures on Facebook from last year, the three of them along with a few others had gotten seriously smashed on spiked eggnog and had toilet papered Jimmy’s neighbor’s house. He  _definitely_ was not ready for that.

“Well, how about Hannibal?”

Will instantly moves away from that topic, surprised that Alana even mentioned it. _She’s totally onto you_. “And what are your oh-so-mysterious plans Alana? You haven’t mentioned yours.”

“I’m visiting my sister in Europe.” She said with a smile, accepting a ball from one of the dogs who wanted it thrown. “She just had her daughter. Penelope Anna Bloom.”

“Pretty name. Tell her congratulations from me.” Will said, watching as Alana threw the tennis ball.

Alana smiled at him, her clear sky-blue eyes glittered. “I already did.”

Will laughed. It was nice to be out here with Alana again; it'd been far too long for both of them, and they'd both began to miss each other's company.  _Misery needs company._

Thank again, if any of the two of them were miserable, it was Will, although his reasons to be were draining. Since Abigail had entered if life, it'd brightened considerably, not matter how rocky it had started, and with Beverly and Alana also becoming closer and closer to him by the second, it was even better. And then there was Hannibal.

Will couldn't help but feel like was going to mean something to him. He may have just met the man, but he could instantly tell, as if there was a click- Will could snort at that romantic Hallmark shit.- but it was true, if not cheesy.  Will grinned at the open blue sky and he thought. Two dates in and he was already downgraded to 'teenage girl with a crush' level of sappy.  _Getting pretty weak there, Graham._

"What're you smiling at?" Alana said, smiling as well, as if seeing Will happy was all she needed to as well. He shook his head slightly, reaching down to pet Winston. He opted to tell the truth.

"The future."

Alana cool gaze narrowed, as if trying to see into the tangled mess of thought that was his head. "It must be pretty bright for you to be smiling like that."

"Yeah," He said fondly. "I guess it is."

"Good," Alana said, just as fondly as Will straightened. "because you deserve it."

Alana meant it, and Will believed she did. They'd paused to grin at each other, the dogs curling about their ankles, barking and whining for attention. "If you don't mind me asking," Alana started, and Will laughed shortly, replying before she could finish. "Ah, the sentence that begins every uncomfortable question."

Alana laughed a little as well before continuing her question as their walking began again. "What is your relationship with Hannibal Lecter?"

Will paused, frowning slightly. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, it's just he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. "Why?"

"It just seemed like you two might be a little bit more then friends, that's all." She said shrugging slightly. The amount of causality in her voice seemed a little off to Will, but he wasn't about to lie either. "We are," Will said before blushing furiously and ducking his head, "Well, i think, i mean, we went out for coffee and i had dinner with him once..."

"So you're dating?" She said, cocking her head slightly while looking over at him.

"Yes, well,  _no,_ " Will sighed in frustration at the words he couldn't form. "I mean, we aren't _dating_ , we've just went on _dates_." He made a noise of aggravation. "And that made no sense whatsoever." He grumbled the last part with rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his boots instead of Alana, who laughed.

"I think you'll be good for each other, even more than friends." She said, smiling at him as he tried to rid himself of the blush over his cheeks.

"How do you know him?" He asked curiously instead. 

"He was my mentor." She said, putting her hands in her pockets. "And speaking of mentoring, maybe he could teach you how to cook. He's quite good at it and your lasagna making skills could use improvement." she said, her jibe at lasagna referencing months previous when he'd made a rather unsuccessful attempt at the dish, ending with him, Abigail, and Alana deciding to order Chinese food.

Will snorted. "I doubt i'd be a very good student."

"With Hannibal as your teacher, there is no such thing as a bad one." She said, her smile making lines at the corner of her eyes, crinkling them up in an adorable fashion. Will had always liked Alana, and it was moments like this that he'd appreciated her the most.

They continued on in silence for another few minutes before Will murmured, "Did you hear about the newest Ripper victim?"

"It was all over TattleCrime." She said heavily. "Freddie wasted no time getting this down, i swear, sometimes it's almost like she talked to the criminal."

"She's still convinced i am one." Will murmured without any real emotion on the topic. It took him a moment to realize that Hannibal could very easily read one of those articles at any time, and for reasons very well known, it made him cold inside. The thought of Freddie's stupid idea of him being a secret mass murder ruining his still forming relationship with Hannibal made his hackles rise. 

Alana frowned at his sudden tension. "I thought she'd stopped doing that."

Will snorted. "The day she stops taking shit about me is the day Jack puts her in handcuffs and tells her to." 

Alana didn't seem to like that, giving him a look, she turned to him, making him stop as well. "Will, i want you to know whatever happens-"

"That you're here for me, i know. Abigail and Beverly say the same." He said, and smiled. Even as it was tightly pressed and detached of emotions, it was still the best he could do to soothe her. "I'm not going to do anything stupid Alana, not now." He reassured. She seemed to have relaxed a little, but was still tense and unsure.

Placing his hand on her shoulder for a minute, he stared at her, letting her eyes wander his face, his emotionless eyes and greying skin. 

Then, turning to whistle loudly to get the dogs attention, he started back in the direction of the house, giving Alana and his pack no choice but to follow him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Will, you sweet, innocent child. Your future is totally fucked.  
> As for all the terrified/worried/vaguely horrified comments on my last ending note, it's good to know i have y'all on edge and would like to promise that, like Will's scars, it will be explained. Eventually. When you won't expect it.  
> Until then, SUFFER.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team sassy science decide to see if they can get permanently-hungover Will Graham to get even drunker than usual, leading to an incredible hangover and a few mistakes that can't be unmade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M DOING THE 26HOURDEVOUR BECAUSE IT'S A LONG WEEKEND AND I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR AND I'VE BEEN WATCHING FOR CLOSE TO 13 HOURS HELP I CAN'T FEEL MY EYES  
> STILL UNBETA'D. STILL SHIT.

“ _Will Grahaaaam_ , I come baring alcohol.” The singsong voice called through his door, followed by the giggling of multiple people and then loud knocking. Abigail looked up from her laptop to frown at Will, who shrugged at her in return. He didn’t bother to get up, knowing that Beverly would enter anyway.

And that she did, opening the door with such vigor it hit the cabinet beside it, she came plowing inside and jumped over to the couch to flop down beside a slightly traumatized looking Abigail. Coming in more sedately, was Jimmy and Brian.

Brian held a bottle of whiskey and a grocery bag, while Jimmy carried some kind of pink bottle as well as a case of beer.

“What are you doing?” Will said, frowning.

“It’s a ‘Sorry You Didn’t Get Laid’ gift.” Brian said with a wink. Will, who now gave them a horrified look, turned to look at Abigail, who was trying to contain her laughter.

“I’ll call Marissa and tell her I’m coming over.” She said before getting up. Although she did pause to high-five Brian as she passed. Sighing, Will set his book aside. “Why are you actually doing this?”

Beverly sighed, taking her feet off the table to sit forward and be serious. “Alana said you weren’t getting enough communication, plus, we also felt bad about the Ripper fucking up your date.”

Will gave a sarcastic laugh. “Well you have apologized, now please, go.”

“No way Graham, I didn’t just have to deal with Jimmy bitching about getting stupid _Abogrita Strawberry Margarita_ to not drink it.”

“Hey,” Jimmy snapped. “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s a girly drink.” Beverly said sarcastically before leaning over the back of the couch to wrench the bottle of whiskey from Brian’s hands. “This one is mine, you have enough of your own.” She declared before pulling the lid off and drinking straight from the bottle.

Sighing in defeat, Will made a wide sweeping motion with his hand to indicate for them to invade his comfort spot. The group of them huddled down into different spots, Beverly going into the kitchen to find bowls for the chips that were hidden away in the grocery bag.

After somewhat violently throwing a bag of peanut M&M’s at Will, she set an array of mix-matched chips down. Abigail, who was walking by on her way out, was stopped by Beverly, who murmured something in her ear before pressing a bag of chips and car keys into the girl’s hand and patting her on the back. Abigail smiled and nodded before waving to Will and exiting.

Will frowned at Beverly as she sat back down. “What did you tell her?”

“That we were going to get smashed at she had my guardian permission to use my car and spend the night at Marissa’s.”

Will sank lower into his seat. “I’m not getting smashed.”

All three of them stared at him, making Will flush under the attention. Brian, who was giving Will the driest look said with not real change of tone, “You’re getting smashed.”

He’d barely finished it before Will responded, “I’m getting completely smashed.” leaned forward and snatched Beverly’s whiskey out of her hands, making her yelp. Placing the bottle to his lips, he put it at what was damn close if not spot on ninety degrees and drinking enough that the bottle felt lighter than when he started, wiping his mouth and handing it back, Beverly stared in utter horror at quarter of the bottle he’d left.

“Holy shit.” Brian said in awe, his eyes wide as he stared at Will. “That was beautiful to watch.”

“It was beautiful to feel, now pass me a beer.” He said and Jimmy made a ‘whooping noise’ while Brian laughed and tossed Will a bottle of Molson Canadian beer. Within minutes they had found a movie marathon station that was playing ‘The Notebook’, and dedicated their time to making the lamest jokes possible.

When a movie that Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly all recognized came on screen, they went wild, confusing Will’s sluggish mind completely. When he asked what it was, he could have sworn Jimmy was ready to slap him. “It’s the Scooby-Doo movie you unbelievable frog spleen.”

“Oh my god,” Beverly said, his voice seeming to have gained several octaves since Will had pulled out his Vodka from the liquor cabinet. ‘ _You have vodka?’_ Beverly had asked in shock, and he’d shrugged. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” Will said frowning.

“Drinking game!” She cried, jumping up from her seat and tumbling over the back of the couch to retrieve Will’s very chipped shot glasses and a few more types of alcohol. Although Will personally preferred whiskey, he still had some of his old drinks from when he was more curious. Will grinned when he heard Beverly’s cry of ‘Holy shit’, knowing she’d found his Moonshine. What could he say, he _did_ grow up in Louisiana.

“Bev, hurry up its starting!” Jimmy cried in dismay as Beverly hurried back with various bottled and shot glasses. After watching a pouring the shots, most of which were clear liquids, some in varying shades of amber and a few pink ones from Jimmy’s strawberry wine-based margarita.

After establishing some quick rules- a few of which had basically guaranteed that they’d be well plastered before the end of the movie-, the four of them slid off their seats to sit on the floor around the coffee table and watch.

As of the moment they all took their first shot, it was determined in between their gagging, wrenching, and Will’s laughter over their weakness for Moonshine, that they’d be waking up on this floor tomorrow morning with no recollection of the previous night.

And it’d be fucking _fantastic._

 

* * *

 

 

_It was no fantastic and i hate myself._

Will groaned, feeling stars behind his eyelids even before opening them.  _Do you even know what day it is? No._

Checking his watch with bleary, Will sucked in his breath. He had fucking  _class today._ _  
_

Scrambling to his feet and trying to ignore the way his head spun, he looked around and the other three. Jimmy was sprawled against the couch, Brian tucked cozily against him while Beverly was spread eagle on the floor, the shot glasses were all pushed into the center of the table, as were the empty bottles. Will always forced himself, no matter how drunk he was, to make sure it was at least neat for him to clean up the next morning- it appeared that impulse hadn't failed, even with the others around.

In a chorus of muffled swearing, Will tried to move around as quietly as possible. Changing into any random button-down shirt he could find and pulling jacket over it, he shoved his laptop and USB into his shoulder bag. Leaving a quick note for Beverly to feed the dogs, he took off in a steady jog to his car, quickly piling in, barely having time to think about the fact he hadn't grabbed any Advil before leaving.  _Fuck it i have some in my desk._

He ripped into the parking lot of the FBI Academy at record time, more than definitely have broken at least three driving laws, and took running through the hall to his classroom while his head screamed at him to stop before he passed out. Like he'd guessed, he was late, students who hadn't decided to take an opportunity to leave were speaking among themselves, Will sped up to his desk, pausing to catch his breath. He successfully ignored the raised eyebrows at his windswept and obviously hungover appearance. 

"Could everyone take their seats, i apologize for being late." His called, loud enough that his voice rang around the room, making him wince. As what's left of his students rallied together and took their seats, he took what had to be at least six Advil's at the  _least_ and down them dry before setting up his laptop.

Class today, was luckily simple and nothing unheard of. After assigning an essay- which was mostly out of childlike spite for those who'd left, who would receive a big fat F for not doing it- and doing a lecture on their most recent Ripper victim, there was still ten minutes till the end of the class. He felt miserable, utterly miserable. If he ever met the Ripper he was honestly ready to ask if the man could kill Beverly for this. Sighing in defeat, Will sat at his desk and pressed his palms into his eyes. After a brief second of self-pity he looked up. "That's all for today, go."

He didn't move as they all shared looks of varying surprise, happiness, and confusion before filing out. With a groan, Will laid his head down on his desk. His head was pounding with a migraine that was growing in his temples, and he silently wished he'd waken up earlier and showered. He was almost purely sure that the stink of moonshine was heavy enough that at least the first row of seats could smell it. He grimaced.  _Great example for the FBI you're leaving, how the fuck do you still have a job?_

Will ran a hand over his face. This was one of the reasons he never liked to get flat-out drunk. All the depression and self hatred he hid so well came pouring out, flooding his mind and contaminating his thoughts. He spent a lot of time realizing that in highschool when the sharp stink of bitter alcohols clung to him like a cologne, blurring his thoughts to make him think that everyone hated him, that people were out to get him and wished him dead. 

Yeah, his life had been a fun one.

Although, last year had been also spent in a drinking haze that he hadn't quite fallen out of. Whiskey had become his breakfast alongside a mess of pills that he hadn't even know what they were for, the same it slowly progressed into becoming his dinner as well, leaving coffee and sips out of his flask for the times between. Luckily, Abigail coming into his life and Beverly becoming forceful had curved that, as had his Encephalitis being cured.

It took him a few seconds to realize his phone was vibrating. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket and tried to force his bleary eyes on the number, an attempt that failed easily. Clicking 'answer' he pressed it to his ear and not-so-politely growled. "What?"

"Will?"

 _Please tell me this is a joke. Please._ But there was no denying that smooth Lithuanian accent. Holding the phone away from his mouth, he let out a long, pitiful noise before clearing his throat and speaking into the phone. "Hello doctor Lecter."

"Is this a bad time?"  _No, of course not, i'm only hungover and sitting in a pit of undeserved self-pity because apparently i can't handle my alcohol like an adult anymore._  


"Not the greatest, but i could use an intervention." Will said, his voice sounded like shit now, he couldn't imagine how it sounded over the phone. Gods, Hannibal Lecter could do so much better than him, and yet here that man was, calling the sad fisherman alcoholic and treating him well, like, a human. It was refreshing, even if right now wasn't a great time for Will to be anybody's company. "What can i help you with Doctor?"

"I was wondering how you are." Hannibal admitted, rather bashful sounding if Will said so himself. Will grinned, unable to help himself.

"Are you checking up on me, Doctor Lecter?"

"It seems so." Hannibal said, the amusement in his tone matching Will's. 

"Well, i can tell you about my day so far." Will said somewhat sarcastically, leaning back in his seat and propping his feet onto his desk.

"Please, proceed." Hannibal said, and there was a slight rustling on the other end, as if the man was getting more comfortable to listen. Will frowned.

"You serious?"

"Entirely, i'm afraid my next patient isn't due for another hour, so i have the time if you do."

"Well, Alright." Will said with a frown, ruffling a hand through his hair. "A few co-workers came over last night," Will started before laughing slightly. "I don't think i should be telling you this."

"And why is that, Will?" Hannibal asked, the smile on his face was evident in his voice.

"Because, well, i got drunk. Like,  _really_ drunk, and i have a feeling you're not someone who appreciates that kind of childish behavior. Especially out of grown adults."

"You seem to know me well, then." Hannibal said, making Will blush.  _Miles away and Hannibal could still make me feel like a schoolgirl._ "Was there a reason behind it?"

Will opened his mouth, unsure if he should tell the truth.  _Fuck it Graham, what do you have to loose other than his affection and entire future relationship with him._ Will grimaced, trying to ignore that track of thought an decided to be honest. "It was a 'sorry-you-got-cockblocked' event."

There was silence for a moment, and Will felt his blood turn to lead. Finally, when Hannibal spoke, Will realized he hadn't said anything because he was upset or disturbed, it was because he was recovering from shock. "Your coworkers deemed that appropriate?"

"I presume you don't." Will said, keeping his tone neutral although he was worried Hannibal might end it all there and hang up. Refuse to see Will ever again. "But yeah, they're a rowdy bunch and they never miss a chance to prove it." 

When Hannibal didn't respond, Will began to feel a little desperate. "I'm sorry, i should have just kept my mouth shut."

"It's quite alright Will, i am the only one to blame for asking."

The silence was like molasses, Will drowning in his despair and embarrassment, Hannibal giving nothing away. Finally Will asked; "Do you have weekend plans?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Will practically sighed in relief. "As do i. I figured it would be a safer topic."

Hannibal laughed light, the richness of it making Will's stomach curl. Damn, all Hannibal had to do to get Will to melt into a puddle was talk. With a voice like that, the words to describe it were limited, but 'pornographic' was definitely on the list. Will winced. He should probably take Beverly's advice and 'get laid' sometime within the next year before this became ridiculous. 

"A friend of mine is in dire need of some new clothing after an accident and loves to see me out of my comfort zone, so she is taking me to a on a boutique run."

Will laughed at the thought- he couldn't help it. Sure there, were classy clothing places on many small-store lined streets, but being somewhere so crowed on a sunny weekend day, pushing past small families into antique lily-scented shops- it was all too funny for Will.

"Traitorous of you to laugh, Will." Hannibal said with amusement as Will continued to snicker. "Very traitorous."

"I'm sorry, but the idea of you so out of place, it is incredibly funny to me." Will said sighing. "My weekend plans consist of fishing."

"You had not told me you fish." Hannibal said curiously. 

"Yeah, well, it's one of the few things left of my father." Will said, completely lacking of any emotion. He'd long since finished the weak mourning of his father.

"I am sorry then." Hannibal said, sounding like he meant it. 

"I figured you would be. You always know what to say, don't you?"

"I am a psychiatrist Will, it seems to be something i will never let go of no matter whom i am speaking to." Hannibal said politely. Will could understand that. Checking his watch, he made a slight noise and removed his feet from his desk. his next class was to begin in twenty minutes. _Had i really spent that long talking to Hannibal?_  "I've got to run, Doctor Lecter."

"As do i, Will. It was a pleasure to converse with you."

"As with you. I'll talk to you something later this week maybe?" Will asked, biting his lip as his face began to blush again. 

"If you wish." 

"Alright, well." Will said clearing his throat. "Talk to you later then."

"Goodbye Will."

Throwing his phone aside, Will groaned- loud and deep, letting it fill the empty classroom. That conversation had not only been painfully awkward, but extremely embarrassing. With a scowl, he reset her slide show of the next class.  _Technically_ it wasn't too late to cancel, and with the turmoil of negative emotions and the growing headache, Will wouldn't object.

 _Christ, pull yourself together Graham, you're acting like you're five._ Growling slightly at his own internal monologue, he determinedly pulled a stack of marked papers from his bag.

He was going to pull himself together for the rest of the day, and do his damn well best not to fuck up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal, boy, what you plannin'? I knooooow, you doooooon't! COMBAT MOI.  
> [Casually tweeting, watching Hannibal, and writing fic at the same time]


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will enjoys his weekend and an accidental meeting between Abigail and Hannibal happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in about fifty years, first there was the #26HourDevour, then i literally lost the chapter and had to re-type, but then i got too sad and lazy to re-type and i also had six projects to do, and now here we are. I have to admit i'm pretty thorough on the updates though.  
> Here's a longer chapter as a 'sorry' and it's still unbeta'd.

Hannibal and Will spoke another two times that week.

The first time it was at nighttime, two days after Will had come home to find Jimmy, Beverly, and Brian already gone while he still moped around at his fuck-up with Dr. Lecter. Will had made a fire, finding himself with a blanket around his shoulders, cold sweat dripping down his skin from a nightmare that had claimed him before he awoke. He dogs had been surrounding him in warm piles as he shook. He’d remembered blearily that Hannibal would have experience in things like this, being a psychiatrist, and he was itching to speak to somebody- _anybody._

He knew it was incredibly rude and selfish to wake the other man, especially since he still barely knew the other, but something told him Hannibal wouldn’t mind, and it’d been confirmed when Hannibal had picked up. They’d spoken in low voices, Will’s shaking as he told Hannibal of the dream.

The Chesapeake Ripper was to blame for it naturally, his last victim, and Hannibal listened quietly as Will damned the killer to hell for this before continuing on to explain the story, how he'd sat up, thinking he was awake, still in bed, he'd seen the women- no, _corpse-_ standing at the end of his bed and had no idea that it was a dream, thinking insanely that the victim was actually there, still soaked in the leaves and greenish pond water as it streamed out of her eyes, ears and mouth, travelling down her body to pool around her, to trickle off her fingers and create the quiet ‘ _pat pat_ ’ of water droplets on his hardwood flooring.

Her head had been ducked, and as it moved up to face him, it was jerky, popping. Will had scrambled back, pressing himself into the headboard of his bed as she stared at with black eyes that reflected none of the moonlight shiny over her soaking skin.

Will was practically hyperventilating as she opened her mouth, wide and gaping, a pit of blackness, opening wider and wider, inhumanly wide, suddenly, the water running from her eyes starts to turn red as a long slice cut itself into her throat, the arterial spray unrealistically splattering over him. Out of the back of her sliced throat, words had slithered out, dusky and dry like chalk. “Why didn’t you save me? Why? _Why?”_

Will’s attempt at speaking had been choked, a whisper that he barely spoke out as he shook in absolute terror. “I- I didn’t know…”

 _“Why? Why? Why?”_   The victim had kept repeating it, louder and louder each time, her voice crackling like an old stereo as she took slow, shaky steps forward until her knees hit at the edge of the bed, before reaching out one claw-like hand to touch his face. Will had felt himself cry out as pain blossomed over his cheek, and with a great jerk, he sat up, fully awake and shaking, the burning feeling of rising bile in the back of his throat sent him from his bedroom to the third door in the tiny hall at the top of the stairs. He’d retched into the sink, almost expecting to see blood mingled into the clear stomach acid, when he’d caught a glimpse of his appearance in the mirror, he grimaced. He looked like death warmed over. Literally.

When Hannibal picked up, Will hand to fight himself to not hang up and sit in his abyss of self-hatred. Hannibal had been, naturally, extremely kind as Will stammered apologies for bugging him at such later, and how he had ‘nobody else to talk to’.

“Will,” Hannibal had said gently, interrupting a tirade of muffled apologies from Will. “I am always available to talk, no matter the hour, now please, tell me what is wrong.”

As so Will had, going to grotesque detail of everything, from the way her veins stood grey against off-white skin to the way her empty eyes had burnt holes into his memory.

 

* * *

 

 

The second time they’d talked, Hannibal had called Will from a market- one from the sounds of it was a hundred percent organic, ‘money out the arse for a head of lettuce’ type. Hannibal had been inquiring Will about certain types of fish, admitting he had a better understanding of meat then of sea creature, Will had nearly found it sweet that Hannibal had come to him rather then one of the counter workers.

Will had walked him through the different fish that he knew and what they were good for. Hannibal had found his knowledge very interesting as much as he found it useful. He expressed this with a quick “Thank you Darling.” Before ending the call, leaving Will standing in the middle of his empty classroom with briefcase in hand for approximately ten minutes, staring at his phone in shock before a slow grin curled over his lips.

One he couldn’t shake for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

 

On Saturday, Will Graham was to be found in a river.

His third fishing trip of the year was in some of the only good weather they’d had in a while. With December right around the corner, Will would soon have to trade in his fly fishing rod for an ice fishing one, so he was taking any opportunity to experience it before the snow blanketed it all.

It was peaceful. The cool breeze ruffled what cool chocolate curls that weren’t trapped under his hat. The water was up to his knees, and even through the heavy fisherman’s gear he could feel the cool, rapid pushing of the water around his legs.

Will sometimes wondered in moments like these, if heaven was real. If there really were pearly golden gates in the clouds that once you passed them you have an infinity of peace all to yourself. If it was true- if it was all true- Will Graham’s heaven would be here. This clear river surrounded by trees with crisp orange leaves, as the breeze that sang of December brushing around him, the peaceful bliss, the nothing and everything that left his chest hollow and his mind blank.

This was what heaven was; isolation. Not a thought to be mulled over or a worry to be had, no Jack telling him if he didn't push himself that people would die, or Alana looking at with with worried blue eyes, no Abigail fretting over his drinking or Beverly laughing as she dragged him to a new bar while dressed in her favorite red dress. Will Graham would be alone, and with winter so fast approaching, Will had little time to spare to enjoy this before snow covered the grassy banks and the trees became sparse.

Will Graham was truly at peace here until the moment he left, when grass brushed tall and yellow against his open palm, dancing between his fingers as he walked in the direction of home. In the other hand he held a small cooler and his fishing rod. He’d caught two medium sized fish, their scales silvery in the light, but now remained still under the ice. As he walked, Will thought over the recipe he decided to make- a beer battered fry from his college years.

When he arrived home, he came around the corner of the house to see Abigail on the small couch on the pouch, and within seconds Winston was on him, excited and able to smell the fish coming from the cooler, making what should be a few minutes for Will to get inside into what had to be a half hour, adding the fact he had to shed his boots outside to avoid getting his floor wet, and nothing was harder then wrangling the we rubber off his damp socks.  _Nothing._

“How many you get?” Abigail said curiously, looking up from her book, Will’s copy of ‘ _Death In Venice_ ’, something she’d found on his shelves in his room and stared at him in questioning; he’d shrugged and she’d taken the book. This had been months ago, and she’d yet to return it. He doubted she would but didn’t mind much.

“Two. I figured I could fry them.” Will said, going into the house and through the doorway into the kitchen. He opened the window behind Abigail’s head so that they could talk while he was inside.

“ _You_ can cook?” She said teasingly, earning a falsely reproachful look from Will.

“Of course I can cook, how do you think I’ve survived my entire like?”

“Soda crackers and noodle cups.” She said with a shrug, going back to the book in her lap before Will could send her a look. After gutting and cleaning the fish, he began to mix the batter in a separate bowl, as he did so he couldn’t help but grin down at the chunky beige mixture. He could almost smell the stench of energy drinks and peach Smirnoff.

Once he had the fish battered and laid in the heated oil, he slid a tray of regular bagged French fries into the oven and set the timer. Abigail set her book aside and turned to balance her chin on the windowsill and watch him. “Hey Will?”

“Yes?” he asked, flipping a piece of frying fish with a fork and trying not to hiss as flecks of burning oil jumped onto his hand.

“Marissa asked if I could go shopping with her tomorrow.”

“Are you asking my permission?” Will said, all but choking while laughter mingled in with his incredulous tone as he turned slightly to look at her, eyebrows raised as if asking if she were serious. She seemed almost offended at the idea that she didn't ask Will to do things with Marissa, but he had a point.

“What? _No._ well technically not. It’s just,” she hesitated for a moment before sighing. “She wants to go to Baltimore to do it.”

Will frowned, turning fully to look at her as he leaned against the counter. “Why is that?” _Why so far?_

“Well, she wants to get a new pair of Moccasins, and she was going to get them from some mass-produced company but I told her that it’s better to give her money to the right people, and the closest Native-American owned store that makes them is in Baltimore.” Abigail explained. Will paused, thinking this over. He could fully understand what Abigail meant and highly respected her for it, but her being in Baltimore, being so _far._ If something was to happen to her and she’d get hurt of lost, he was an hour at the _least_ away from her. His hesitation must’ve been showing on his face because she seemed disappointed. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”

“No it’s not that it’s just,” Will seized up for a minute, avoiding his gaze before murmuring, “What if something was to happen to you and I wasn’t there to protect you?”

Abigail’s look of genuine shock cut him. He knew he shouldn’t be offended by her surprise at his paternal instincts, but he _wasn’t_ her father, no matter what any government papers had listed him under when he took her in or what Abigail’s friends’ said.

“How about,” Will said instead, wanting to take her current look off her face. “I’ll go with you- not in a ' _monitor your every move and walk around with you_ ' mode, I promise-“ he added quickly, “But I’ll be in the area if you need me, but not right beside you.”

Abigail tilted her head in contemplation before nodding. “I guess that could work, but what’re you going to do?”

Will shrugged before turning to his pan to take the finished pieces of fish out and lay them onto the paper-towel laden plate. “Hopefully find a place to sit for the time. There might be a military surplus or two I can look through.”

“I’m not sure, but I do know there’s a chocolate shop. And a few florists,” Abigail said slyly, laying her head down on her arms that rested on the window ledge, her blue eyes focused mischievously at Will. “You could get your date some chocolate and flowers.”

Will spluttered. “What? _No.”_

Abigail scoffed. “Why not? He invited you over for dinner, maybe it’s your turn to do something romantic.”

“I’m pretty sure that died when I told him about my mishap with my co-workers the other day.” Will grumbled, figuring he might as well mention it to _somebody._ Abigail frowned and straightened in her seat. “What do you mean- Will what did you say?”

Will shrugged halfheartedly as he laid another piece of battered fish into the oil “He asked about my day and I told him my massive hangover because my coworkers came to my house and got me drunk as an apology for not getting laid.”

Abigail’s horrified silence was all he needed. He snorted, more to himself than anything, another press on the bruise of embarrassment.“You didn’t.” she said instantly, completely disbelieving that Will could be so- _stupid? reckless? ignorant?_ any of the words could work for his actions.

“I did.” Will sighed lamely.

“How did he react?”

“Horrified apparently.” Will said shrugging again.

“Oh god,” She said, appalled. “You guys hung up after didn’t you?”

Will frowned, turning back to look at her almost pitying expression. “Yes, Abigail,” Will said dryly. “That’s how you end a phone call, but clicking the little red button that means ‘hang up’.”

“Will.” She said, obviously not appreciating his sarcasm. “From what you’ve told me you’ve talked another _two times.”_

“So?”

“ _So,_ he’s a psychiatrist, he’s probably _worried_ about your life stability that would make you think it’s acceptable to drink that much over something like a crashed date. It doesn’t mean you’ve forever ruined your relationship, you probably took him by surprise and he feels like he's responsible for your rather reckless and dumb behavior.” Abigail said with raised eyebrows and a slight smile, the look on her told him very well she knew she was right and he did as well.

“He shouldn’t _have_ to worry.” Will grumbled as the oven went off. He turned, wrapping his hand in a towel to pull it out and place it over the burners that the fish pan wasn’t frying on. "Or blame himself for that matter. And my behavior wasn't dumb, Beverly  _did_ burst into my house and toss alcohol at me."

"Yes, but who decided to drink it?" she prompted, and he opened his mouth to respond but had nothing to say. "Mhm." she murmured in retaliation to his stubbornness.  “Well, from what it seems like, he’d pretty into you, and people who are in relationships tend to want to look after each other.” She said lightly.

Will turned to look at her instantly. “We’re not in a relationship-”

“Yes, yes, _I know,_ I’ve heard the story. ‘ _We’re not dating we’ve just been on dates_ ’.” Abigail said in a horrible mimic of his semi-deep and bitchy tone. Scoffing, she shook her head. “Sounds an awful lot like dating to me.”

Will shot her a venomous look that made her grin as she sat up, obviously about to come inside, still he called after her; “Get inside and eat your fish child, before I make you eat the burnt bits.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she called, darting around to the door.

“Try me.” Will called back laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail had promised that they wouldn’t leave till twelve the next day. Unfortunately, Will subconsciously decide it was a good idea to wake up thirty minutes before that time limit. After taking probably the most half-assed shower in history, he brushed his teeth and put on deodorant, all while ignoring his reflection, which had baggy eyes and greyed skin with a case of untamed hair.

Opting for a plain beige sweater over one of his plaid shirts, he grabbed for the first jacket and jeans he saw. Honestly, he was going out in public, in _Baltimore,_ who the fuck would he run into in the middle of nowhere anyways?

Abigail was already downstairs when he slumped down the short creaky staircase. Dressed in a pair of questionably tight holey blue jeans that Will decided not to comment on, Abigail had an over-sized fuchsia knit sweater and tank top on. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the scarf of the day was a silky, floral patterned one. She seemed more nicely dressed than usual, but Will didn’t want to comment in case he offended her.

“I see you’ve finally woken up.” She teased and Will made a noise in the back of his throat in response. “We should head out to get Marissa in about ten minutes. You could make yourself a coffee to go if you started a pot now.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he shuffled his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ve had breakfast but I’m eating lunch once we get there.” It’s this comment that made Will pause in the middle of opening the fridge. Abigail was dressed nicely, going to Baltimore on a ‘shopping adventure’, and was eating lunch, all with Marissa. Will knew he could quite possibly be looking a little too much into this, but there was no denying the way he’d seen Abigail looking at Marissa when the girl faced the other way. He smiled slightly at the thought of Abigail taking a step forward into getting back into society.

Opting for orange juice with a sigh, Will decided to wait until they reached their location to find a café for his caffeine fix. After very little persisting a few minutes later and Will taking what had to be at least a pill's bottle worth of medication that made Abigail cringe, Will found himself in his car, Abigail strapping herself into the back. “ _Marissa and I will want to sit together._ ” She explained, and Will could understand that. Marissa still wasn’t all that comfortable with him- he _was_ the man who put ten bullets into Abigail’s father had then held her neck to stop her from bleeding out on her kitchen floor, he could understand why that would naturally have his surrogate daughter's friend a bit queasy. 

Marissa was just excited as Abigail but also apparently relieved at the fact she didn’t have to drive, thanking Will as she climbed in, she instantly started talking to Abigail about some band that was coming to the area in concert. She dressed like Abigail, just in darker, warmer colors. A red V-neck shirt with a lacy collar was hidden under her brown leather jacket that matched her boots, she also wore jeans, but a darker blue, sometimes these two girls were so alike yet so different that is confused him.

The drive to Baltimore wasn’t horrible. Marissa played some music that she and Abigail enjoyed greatly but Will had probably heard a thousand times on the radio, and when they finally came to directions, Marissa was a lot clearer on them than he could ever be.

They finally came to a long road with old buildings on either side, with glass window fronts and horizontal parking spaces, it held an air of cute boutiques and interesting bars. Will opted for parking near the bottom of the hill, pulling in in front of a cheese shop.

Climbing out, Will walked around to the front of the car, hands in his pockets, watching as Marissa and Abigail approached him, arm-in-arm.

“So, when do you want to meet back up?” Abigail asked.

“How long do you think you want to stay?” Will said, frowning at her.

“Wait,” Marissa cut in, raising her thin eyebrows in surprise. “Like, we can stay for however long?” she grinned, her excitement boosting at the thought of wandering with Abigail freely for a large amount of time. Abigail quickly added, “Well not a ridiculous amount of time, Will probably has things to do."

“Not really.” Will drawled, scratching the side of his nose as he shrugged. “How about in maybe three hours?”

“Sounds good to me!” Marissa said, grinning ecstatically. “Thanks Mr. Graham.”

“No problem.” Will murmured, his answer going unheard as he watched Abigail give him one last smile before wandering off with Marissa, leaving Will standing on the sidewalk as people walked by. Great, three hours of doing fuck-all in a place he had no idea how to navigate. This would be fantastic.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long for Will to find a café, instantly ordering the largest coffee they had, he took it black, knowing he’d need the extra boost of bitterness to keep him motivated for the next few hours. He wandered aimlessly, coming across the chocolate shop Abigail had mentioned. He paused, almost ready to go in, when he changed his mind and kept walking. The weather was nice, so the streets were bustling with people, making it so Will accidentally bumped shoulders every now and then.

At one point he’d found a small outdoors shop, wandering in and got into a deep conversation about the different types of fly fishing reels with a man in his late fifties behind the counter, who proceeded to show Will his own personal collection. When Will left the shop, he not only had the mans’ business card, but a small paper bag with new feathers, hooks, and string. He’d just stepped out the door, the bells jingling, when he heard someone call- more _ask-_ his name.

Turning, he saw the person he lastly but stupidly thought he wouldn’t run into. Will’s heart nearly stopped at the sight, in a pair of faded blue jeans that were baggy yet obviously designer, he had a simple white button down that was slightly opened at the collar and a nice sapphire colored blazer to boot. Will’s mouth opened awkwardly. 

“Uh, hi Hannibal.” He said as the other man approached, only then did Will notice the woman with him. Her hair was blonde, curled around one shoulder, she was dressed in a sever pencil skirt and matching blouse, and Will could of sworn by just looking at her heels he felt like tripping. Something about her reminded Will of Hannibal, with high cheekbones and a haughty face, she had thin lips and slightly narrowed eyes which were blue instead of maroon, and focused very intently on Will.

“How are you?” Will asked weakly, staring at his shuffling feet instead of at the man he should've know the fates would make him run into. People brushed by them, luckily enough they were close enough to the side of the building that it didn’t cause any blockage.

“I’m well Will, and how about you?”

“I’m fine.” He mumbled back, rubbing persistently at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” said a female voice this time, smooth, like warm coffee yet still held a charm to it that demanded you meet the eyes of the beholder. As if on cue, Will’s eyes snapped up to the blonde woman, who was smiling rather coldly at him. “You are?”

“Will Graham.” He supplied instantly, putting out a hand as politely as he could, figuring this is the friend Hannibal had spoken of.

“Bedelia Du Maurier.” She said, shaking his hand. He quickly pulled away and resisted the urge to wipe away her strong grip on his pants.

“I do not mean to be rude, but you never mentioned you were coming to Baltimore this weekend.” Hannibal stated curiously, tilting his head slightly. Will blushed, he almost felt like he was being asked if dishonest.

“I didn’t know. It was a surprise trip.” Will said shrugged before realizing his statement suggested he’d come with somebody else. Hannibal seemed to have not missed that and raised his brows slightly. “A friend decided to bring me.” He added quickly, not meeting Hannibal’s gaze. Right now he'd  like to be approximately two countries away from this situation.

It was only then when Will realized how much worse this terribly awkward situation could become, and because his life was a joke, he heard Marissa's voice not to far behind him. “Hey Abby, I think your pops it talking to someone.” Will froze, every muscle tensing. That was it, he knew he shouldn’t be bothered so much but it felt as if the entire ground had fallen away, and when he felt Abigail skip up beside him, one hand holding a bag while the other was curled tightly into Marissa’s, his mind slammed back into reality quickly enough to catch Abigail's question. “Hey Will, who’s this?” she said grinning brightly at him and Marissa looked curiously at Hannibal and Bedelia, who both watched in silence.

Will opened his mouth, unsure what to say before deciding it was best to get this over with. “Abigail, meet Hannibal, Hannibal meet Abigail.”

Hannibal smiled and inclined his head with a quick, “pleasure to meet you Ms. Abigail.” Will watched as Abigail’s smile slid away into surprise as she stared at Hannibal, but still took his offered hand and shook it. But naturally, it was Marissa who spoke first. “Woah wait, _this_ is the guy you’ve been sulking over? He's not  _that_ great."

Will’s entire face turned bright red as Abigail hissed Marissa’s name in horror that her friend had said that, it was no wonder to Will that Abigail had told Marissa about what Will had said about Hannibal. _Fantastic._ Will cleared his throat and looked up at Hannibal, who's face betrayed nothing. “Abigail is my…” he glanced at her, looking for answers. He saw it clearly written in her face she didn’t care what he said as long as it was something. He sighed in defeat. “She’s my... niece?” Technically it was a lie, but it was better than the truth. “She’s staying with me for a while.”

“Funny,” Bedelia said, looking slowly between Hannibal and Will. “You never mentioned he had a sibling.”

“I didn’t know.” Hannibal murmured, staring at Will as if in a whole new light. Something in those deep maroon eyes told Will that Hannibal knew he was lying, and it made him hold his breath, Abigail, who noticed the change, protectively curled herself up against Will’s side, Marissa standing just behind her. Will tried to ignore the way those predatory eyes looked between Abigail and Will before Hannibal cocked his head and smiled slightly.

“It only happened recently.” Will added with a grimace, but he knew it wouldn’t change the fact he’d never told Hannibal of her existence- children could be a whole other ballgame for the man, hell he could even dump Will right here right now for not mentioning the parental bags he carried, even if it was just his ‘niece’.

“With the likeness between the two of you, I am not surprised you are related.” He said with a suddenly warm smile at Abigail, who slowly found herself smiling back, mostly because of the relieved breath she’d felt Will let out.

“Yeah, my mom reminds me a lot of him.” Abigail said sweetly, taking Will by surprise as his head snapped around to look at her. “Mostly in attitude though. Very kind, and doesn’t really notice how good of a person she is but very reliable.” Abigail looked directly into Will’s eyes as she said it, and he knew the words were meant for him, even when her doe-like eyes seemed too sad yet so proud.

“Well, we best be going.” Will said, his voice strained, groping for an out of this situation.

“Quite so, yes.” It was Bedelia who spoke up this time, indulging Will with a way out, smiling as if she found this all very amusing. Hannibal nodded slightly in agreement before turning his attention to Will. “I was going to mention at a later point, but it seems now is a golden opportunity to ask if you’d care to join me for dinner again this Wednesday. I’m having a dinner party and would quite enjoy if you could come.”

Will opened his mouth, unsure. He felt Abigail’s sharp poke in the ribs and frowned down at her to see her mouthing ‘ _say yes’_ at him. Blushing, Will quickly decided on the answer. “I’ll have to call you and see, I need to know what I’ll be doing Wednesday.”

“Understandable.” Hannibal said with a smile. “Until then.” He said as they two small groups began to separate, Hannibal grabbed Will’s arm gently as he was about to pass, making Will pause, their faces where very close, and when his eyes met Hannibal's, he could almost feel the sparks flying between the contact. There was no Bedelia or Abigail or Marissa to hear, just the two of them to share a small moment. “I quite look forward to picking up where we left off, and also, ‘pops’ is a very interesting thing to refer to ones uncle as, is it not?”

And like that, Hannibal was striding away as if he hadn’t said anything. Leaving Will to brush it off and hurry to catch up with the girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly i'm just gonna start fucking everything/everyone up next chapter, aka; MORE MURDER. Also Will bitching about the Chesapeake Ripper to Hannibal is just me giggling behind my computer screen like i'm four.  
> Also Marissa and Abigail! Yay! I don't know if i should make it a thing or not, maybe Marissa with reject the love idea because 'no homo', so who knows? None of us!  
> Jusqu'à la prochaine fois mes chéris.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of Hannibal's perspective; Will has to rush out and leave Abigail with her only option- Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM Hannibal chapter. It's unbeta'd but it's a good length so @everyone fight me if you have a problem with spelling. Or don't.

Preparation, patients, patience.

Those three words were the ones that Hannibal used to take him through a day. No matter what the preparation was for, who the patient was, or the amount of patience he’d had to use that day, he always had those guidelines to follow in the direst of circumstances.

But today, it seemed off- he was distracted, and distraction was not something he took nicely to. The small things that would draw his attention back into place weren’t working. Whether it was his fingers being coated in the seasoning of the ‘pork’ he was cooking tonight, or the smell of honey lavender incense, even his sketching seemed halfhearted and pointless. His mind longed to be elsewhere.

His distraction? One Will Graham. A man covered in dog hair and reeking of awful aftershave, who’d come into his life grumpy and obnoxious and as someone Hannibal would usually instantly loathe, but instead intrigued him. Hannibal almost resented the man for it, but then, every Achilles had his heel, and he was starting to believe Will was his. He wasn’t in love, no, not yet at the most, but it was easy to say he was very much infatuated with him.

As Hannibal traced one finger around the top of his glass, he couldn’t help but think back to the night of the dinner, how cautious, almost insecure Will had been in touching him. Kissing him. A slight smile curled his lips at the memory of Will’s rough, calloused hand on his cheek, ever so gentle but so sure of what he was after. Yes, Will Graham was truly something.

Hannibal wasn’t quite sure what he had planned with this man, Will Graham held something that made it seem almost impossible to predict his actions. He was shy, definitely, but also bold, like a narcissist hiding behind an introverted mindset. It was all very curious to Hannibal.

But the mind was only as beautiful as the man, with eyes the color of the earth itself and a mop of chocolate curls that Hannibal’s fingers ached to be wound into, Will was a man of youthful beauty glossed over by exhaustion triggered aging. He carried heavy bags under his eyes and his mouth hung in a permanent frown as if to keep anyone away. There was a definite greyed edge to his skin, and his gaze was hallow, as if he was always somewhere else in his own head.

Hannibal had recognized his sickness, something more mental than physical, and from what Hannibal had learned previously, Will was not opposed in trying to drown in in alcohol and medications in an attempt to numb the pain for even a millisecond.

Picking up his glass, Hannibal lightly lifted it and inhaled the smell of the wine before taking a sip. Mulling over the shabby man he couldn’t help but ponder about. Eventually, Hannibal’s thoughts were drawn away from Will, to someone of almost equal interest.

Abigail. The young girl with wide blue eyes the color of the sky above them that stood out in sharp contrast next to her pale skin and dark hair that had smelt fairly of lilacs as the wind blew. The way she’d protectively pressed herself up beside Will, drawing up to her full height in his defense.

When Will had claimed her as his niece, Hannibal had known instantly that she was no relative of his. Although the smaller things could be deceiving; hair, eyes, smiles, small things that are enough to fool others, there was no denying the lack of matching DNA between the two.

Hannibal thought over how many times Will had mentioned a few ‘friends’, noticing that on most occasions he’d mention names or nicknames, but in some cases he’d pause as if to think over what to say instead of names.

Yes, Abigail was definitely something to Will, they had a bond that was nearly palpable to the eye. As for the other girl with Abigail… Hannibal barely held back the urge to curl his lip at the thought. There had been no missing the stench of cigarettes and dried blood, just from the way she held herself and acting out with false confidence displayed what a lost cause she was. It appeared that Abigail did not see it the same way.

Bedelia on the other hand, had not said anything about Will Graham once they’d left, instead waiting until they returned to Hannibal’s home for dinner. She’d found him interesting, a shy specimen who’d been unwilling to do anything but submit himself instantly to avoid any chance of a fight.

But Bedelia had instantly seemed to pity his future with Hannibal, her inability to completely trust Hannibal was obvious in the way she’d told him over a glass of wine to stay away from Will Graham. She was completely sure in her thoughts that he was going to use Graham, to play a game of cat and mouse before leaving him broken and bleeding.

Hannibal did not see it the same way, he did not have any bad intentions for Will Graham, he simply wanted to let this go its own way and see where he ends up. And he told Bedelia this, her response was to cock her head and raise her eyebrows in appraisal as she sipped her wine. Although she disapproved, she’d never be one to stop Hannibal, because inside she was just a curious and occasionally malicious as he was.

And so Hannibal sat now, two days later, sipping on a dry 97 Château Pétrus 2004 Pomerol- a bottle gifted to him from Bedelia during the last holidays, which was something Hannibal would have to start thinking about again. Ever since he was litter, he’d had Christmas alone, and he doubted it would be any different this season. He didn’t mind it much, thinking of it as a just another day, even when Alana or Bedelia insisted on giving him things, something he was now ready to respond to with a gift of his own.

Hannibal couldn’t help but wonder what Will Graham did during the holidays. He had said that Abigail staying with him was a recent occurrence, but from the way she’d been so comfortable around him, Hannibal found it was quite easy to spot the fact she must’ve know him much longer. He wondered if before the appearance of the girl in his life, did Will Graham spend Christmas alone? Had he had a tree to stare at? Or maybe he just sat alone in his sitting room while surrounded by his dogs, whiskey in hand as snow swirled by outside the window.

Hannibal contemplated this, how alone both he and Will Graham were, even whilst surrounded by people. Maybe it was why the two were so drawn together. Or maybe it was a completely different reason. Hannibal smiled to himself as he leaned back in his seat. Will Graham had an extraordinary mind that was accessed through sight and emotions, and who better for Hannibal to bed than someone whose emotions made up for the ones he lacked.

Bedelia had said to stay away, and for good reasoning, but Hannibal couldn’t help himself. Speaking of, he’d yet to receive a call from Will on whether or not the man was showing tomorrow. Only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

 

Will Graham misses the dinner party. He calls Hannibal to tell him that he wouldn’t make it, that the Ripper had been leaving a trail of corpses and he was required at his job. Hannibal had thought it ungodly they’d keep a person for more than twenty four hours away from their home and bed, but he didn’t mention his opinion, knowing how upset Will was about the Ripper and guilt for missing Hannibal’s party.

Hannibal doesn’t comment as Will damns the killer to hell in a rather calm, stately manner before saying his farewell.

It is that Thursday the same week that Hannibal received a call. He’d been adding the last touches to a veal steak before moving to his dining room when the shrill ringing of his phone calls him away from the task. Will’s number is the one displayed on screen, making Hannibal smile at the thought of talking to the younger man after their brief but bitter conversation the previous day. Pressing the phone up to his ear, he held it there with his shoulder as he entered the kitchen again. “Hello Will.”

“Hello Hannibal. I’m sorry about the other night.” The man sounded exhausted, but there was an obvious lightness in his tone that suggested his time was thin. Hannibal felt flattered that he was the first and possibly only person Will had to call in his spare moment. “I really would have tried to be there if I could but…”

“The Ripper is holding you back, I understand.” Hannibal said thinly, trying not to let his own anger shine through. He wasn’t angry at Will, not in the slightest, but himself for taking away possibly good opportunities to get more involved with Will.

“The Ripper is being feisty.” Will said with a slight laugh, he tried not to notice the hysterical edge it’d taken on. “I’m starting to think our chances of catching the man are dwindling.”

“You must think more positively.” Hannibal said sweetly. “I’m sure he’s just out of your grasp. You are very good at what you do Will, he could quite possibly be anyone around you. Wait for him to slip, and when he falls, catch him.”

“Thank you.” Will murmured, sounding much older than he was. “But I doubt it.”

Hannibal listened to what seemed to be Will building up the courage to finally say something, and when he did, Hannibal paused in the act of putting some extra sauce into the fridge. “Hannibal, I’m about you the oddest favor you’ve probably been asked because I’m rather desperate at the moment.”

Hannibal frowned, closing the fridge and leaning against the counter as he listened intently. What could Will possibly ask of him that was so strange? “I will help in any way possible.”

Will sighed. “I need a babysitter.”          

 

* * *

 

 

Hannibal Lecter didn’t know what he expected when it came to Abigail Hobbs. Will was a disaster, it was easy to say, and what appeared to be a reoccurring serial killer they’d lost a trail on months previous had deemed himself safe and decided to start cutting people’s tongues out to replace then with dollar bills once more, sending him on a plane to Massachusetts with Beverly Katz and several others, leaving him with nobody to call to stay with Abigail. It'd been bad enough that the Ripper was making fools out of them, but now they were angry and desperate, so taking on a lighter 'side-challenge' as Will had called it, was their idea of temporary time to look over their already existing profiles for missing information.

From what Hannibal caught, Will Graham was drowning in his job and instead of being given a life raft, they're dumping more water on him and telling him to swim.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone- Jack said three days at the least and I can’t leave her alone.” Will had explained in a rush before Hannibal could agree. “If you can’t do it I’m sure she can stay with Marissa, but I’m running out of options and Alana is the only other one i have but she’s unavailable. You’re the only person I trust enough to stay with her.”

The last part his sentence came out in a defeated tone, and Hannibal knew instantly why Will was worried- something had happened with Abigail that had scarred her, a permanent mark on the mind and possibly in flesh that left Will so worried. After all, there was no one safer to leave a girl who possibly needs psychiatrist supervision and someone to emotionally lean on then with a psychiatrist.

“Will,” Hannibal said calmly. “I will watch your Abigail. I have a guest bedroom she can stay in. When are you taking flight?”

“About five hours.” Will said, and he was obviously grimacing at the short notice. “I’m sorry to ask this of you especially when we do not know each other that-”

“ _Will._ ” Hannibal cut off his tirade with a voice slightly louder than the other mans, catching his attention. “It is not a problem. Couples must learn to face things such as these. I am no stranger to teenagers.”

“Is that we are?” Will murmured, his voice suddenly hushed. “A couple?”

“You that’s what you want us to be, then yes.” Hannibal had said, a slight smile curving his lips at the thought of calling Will his own. “We can anything you desire.”

There was a short pause, and Hannibal could’ve almost imagined Will- worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as his glassy eyes darted around the floor, thinking of a way to answer the question before deciding, as usual, on honesty. “I’d like that.”

“Then it is to be official.” Hannibal declared lightly, his own heart beating a little quicker in excitement. “When do you want me to pick up Abigail?”

“I’ll tell her to start packing, I don’t know if I’ll be there but anytime today will be good. I’ll ask her and text you the time.”

“As for the dogs?”

“They’re staying with a neighbor.” Will said quickly- it sounded as if he was walking down a tiled hall. Hannibal didn’t want to think about Will’s statement. He presumed the closest one was a few miles away, probably a little old woman with a few cats and a son who liked in a big city somewhere. “Listen I gotta go- Jack is gonna flip shit if I’m not back in the office ASAP.”

“That is quite fine Will, make sure to get some sleep on the plane.”

Will had snorted. “You sound like a mother hen. I have Beverly for that.”

“Perhaps a rooster, giving it’s early-morning cry to give you a start to your day?” Had been Hannibal’s response, one he was quite pleased about. Will had made a ridiculous choking noise after hearing it.

“Oh god, now I feel like I need to make a cock joke.” Will had said, and Hannibal flat out grinned at something he’d usually find disrespectful and lewd, but was instead rather amusing and light. In the background, a female voice- presumably Beverly’s- had yelled Will’s name.

“Shit Hannibal, gotta go, thank you again for everything. I’ll have to make it up to you somehow.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Hannibal said dryly, earning a laugh from Will before he’d hung up.

And now here Hannibal was, pulling up in his Bentley at the small but cozy farm house of Will Graham. It was just as he expected of Will, he’d been surprised at how remote it was when he’d gotten the directions- He knew Will had lived far, but the man had traveled an hour to Baltimore to meet Hannibal for dinner. It was oddly touching.

Abigail opened the door and welcomed him inside. She was pretty, frail looking. But something told Hannibal the girl was anything but frail, making him instantly like her. “If you just wait a second I’ll go get my bags.” She said, almost as if embarrassed there were multiple of them.

“Please, take your time. I predict this is very abnormal for you seeing as we’ve only met once.” Hannibal assured her with a smile, removing his coat and draping it over one of his arms. Abigail smiled at him, and Hannibal could predict already she was going to be very cheeky. _Will must’ve rubbed off on her, or maybe it was the other way around._

“I’d say. I hope I won’t be too bothersome.” Abigail turned after speaking, padding away across the very open space. The living room was long and narrow, the only two doors led to the kitchen, which was wide enough that you could practically see the entire room, and the slim stairway- that judging by the horrible creaking noises it made as Abigail trotted up them- was only five steps at the most.

“I doubt you could be very bothersome.” Hannibal called up after her, taking a few steps into the room, drinking in everything. It was very Will- mismatched furniture or different sizes and varying ages were scattered about, a large stooping red sofa sat facing the TV, which was mounted on the fireplace. An armchair was also facing it, and the long table between them was thoroughly covered in scratches and what Hannibal presumed with the teething marks of dogs.

“You’d be surprised.” She said with a rather awkward grin as she carried a duffle bag and a backpack down the stairs, grimacing and near falling every time the chunky bags hit against the wall. Once she’s at the bottom, he reaches out a hand to take them from her. She shakes her head, dumping them onto the floor instead. “Will should be here in about ten minutes. He needs his overnight bag.”

“Is it already packed?” Hannibal asked, taking a few steps back quickly before she could push past him towards the kitchen. Hannibal frowned after her at the attempted invasion of space. It appears she was testing him.

“Yeah, he has it just in case, but I added some extra clothes.” She said, rummaging through the pantry as Hannibal stood in the doorway to the bright room. She leaned back to look at him past the door, looking him up and down before shaking her head. “I was going to ask if you had potato chips, but I doubt it. Would you mind if I brought a bag for myself?”

“I cannot stop you, although I disapprove your choice in snacking. There are much healthier options.”

Abigail froze in the middle of closing the panty, Hannibal could see how stiff she’d become, and from the way she’d ducked her head, he knew she needed a second to compose herself. He gave it to her, before asking somewhat cautiously, “Abigail?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry, just,” She looked up at him and gave him an extremely forced smile, unable to look him in the eyes. “You sounded like someone I used to know.”

Hannibal didn’t ask, but he felt it had something to do with her biological parentage. Luckily, they were both saved by the sound of gravel rolling as Will’s car whipped up to the house, follow by the slam of it’s door and running feet. Abigail brushed past Hannibal, who simply turned to watch as Will rushed in, looking, for lack of a better term, like he’d crawled straight from hell itself.

What happened next surprised Hannibal, as Will instantly met Abigail halfway, putting a hand into the hair on the back of her head and one around her, pulling her into a tight hug as he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. Abigail accepted this without so much as a blink, as if Will did this regularly, like a clutch- a form of stability. Hannibal watched the two of them in contemplation, they were exquisitely beautiful in a deep-rooted emotional way that reminded Hannibal of what could only be the bond between a child and parent. He said nothing as Will pulled backing, placing a kiss to Abigail’s forehead before flicking his eyes to Hannibal’s. They widened a fraction, but revealed nothing, even as they stared each other down for a moment.

“You bag is on your bed.” Abigail said with a shaky smile and Will nodded, walking briskly up the creaky stairs and into what must be his room for a nanosecond before coming back down with an ancient looking gym bag in hand.

Hannibal turned to Abigail. “If you’d like to take these out to my car, it is unlocked. I would like to speak to Mr. Graham for a moment.” He said politely, giving her a smile that was returned with an all to knowing look. Once Abigail had left the house, Will turned to Hannibal.

“Thank you so much for doing this.” Will said with a voice dripping in brutal honesty. The man couldn’t hide his positive emotions to save his life. Opting to stare at Hannibal’s collar instead of the mans’ eyes, Will continued, “You didn’t have to, I could’ve figured something else out-”

“It is not a problem for me Will. It will be good to have some company in my home other than my cat.” Hannibal said, finally cracking a half-hearted smile out of Will. The other man glanced around, Abigail nowhere to be found. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand onto Hannibal’s shoulder.

It was cautious, as if he was doubting himself, Hannibal turned his head to look at it before back at Will. Will’s eyes traveled up to meet Hannibal’s and he gave him a proper, well-meant smile this time and squeezed his shoulder lightly. Hannibal took Will’s hand gently off his shoulder, but instead of letting the man retract it, he moved it to his lip, kissing the inside of his wrist, lightly running his teeth over the feint veins there before sucking a small mark. Will made a slight noise, but made no move to stop him.

Will reached out his other hand to trail his fingers over Hannibal’s smooth jaw, and Hannibal’s hunger for the man became ravenous, forcing him to use every ounce of self-control not to drag Will upstairs and strip him bare. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if they’d make it to the bed.

Will seemed to pick up on the sudden surge of predatory hunger that welled up inside of Hannibal, his light eyes meeting Hannibal’s dark ones, dilating instantly at what they saw there, the lust Will had been building up showing easy in his own gaze. Hannibal wondered idly what would Hannibal if he locked himself and Graham away, held him from the FBI and worship his mouth at every hour of the day until neither of them could move a muscle out of exhaustion.

Hannibal and Will were practically chest to chest at this point, hearts beating incredibly quick as they eyed at each other. Hannibal was almost sure that his impulse control was going to shatter and he and Will would end up on the closest horizontal surface when the car horn blared outside, making them both jump apart.

Will swore savagely, but apologized when Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got to go.” He said desperately, grabbing his bag from the floor where it’s tumbled from his grip.

“As do I.” Hannibal agreed, following Will’s lead outside, watching as he locked the door. Abigail leaned against Hannibal’s Bentley with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. “Took you two long enough. Thought you’d never come out.”

“Is that a double meaning?” Will asked, pushing up his glasses as he moved forward to hug her one last time. She hugged him back just as tightly and patted him on the shoulder. “It can be anything you want it to be.”

He laughed as he backed away before becoming serious again. “Behave yourself, okay? No giving Hannibal trouble or using up all his internet or data or any of the other things you use.”

“D- _Will_ ,” Abigail hissed, her near slip not going unmissed. Will and Abigail shared a long look before she gave him a small smile. “I’ll be okay. So Will Hannibal. Right Dr. Lecter?”

“I assure you Will, I doubt Abigail could be that much of a problem if you are the one she spends so much time with.” He said, smiling down at Will, who blushed under the praise and murmured; “Flattery will get you nowhere.” Which was completely bullshit because it was going to get him straight into Will’s bed if he didn’t stop. Which he wouldn’t.

Hannibal leant in and placed a chaste kiss onto Will’s cheek. “Goodluck Will.”

Will, blushing furiously, hurried off to his car, and with one last embarrassed smile, drove off. Leaving Abigail and Hannibal to their own devices.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail had never been in a house such as Hannibal’s before, and it became apparently to him the minute she entered. She did not wear her awe to blandly on her face as Will had, in fact, awe would be the wrong word to describe her. She seemed to have a general appreciation of it- from the heavy drapes to the dark mahogany that smelt faintly of lemon wax.

After removing their jackets and hanging them in the front closet, Hannibal carried her things up into a one of his guestrooms, only three doors down from his, it was a golden yellow-brown color with dark brown and Persian blue accents. Abigail whistled lightly, running her fingers over the beaded and embroidered comforter before grinning up at Hannibal. “This is beautiful. You have a nice taste.”

“Thank you.” Hannibal said inclining his head as he set her bags down. “The closet is just over there for when you want to put these away.” He added, gesturing to a dark wooden door that was made to slid into the wall when opened. Abigail stared at it before looking at Hannibal.

“No way.”

“Yes way.” He said back mockingly as she all but excited bounded over to open it. She gaped into it. “This is big.”

“Yes it is.” Hannibal said, amused by her almost childish reaction to her temporary room. “I will be beginning supper now, if you’d like to join me you are welcome to.”

“You cook to?” She said before snorting and shaking her head. “Who am I kidding, of course you do. I’d love to help. And thank you for everything.”

“It is not a problem Abigail.” He said with a smile, opening the door back out of the room and making a gesture for her to proceed out before him. “Anyone who Will enjoy the company of it very much of interest to me.”

“You picked up on that, hm?” she said, making her way down the stairs, trailing her slender fingers over the dark oak railing. “The whole introverted thing?”

“The second I met him.” Hannibal said lightly and Abigail laughed. He couldn’t help but think about how well he and Abigail were going to get along.

Abigail loved the kitchen, the minute the lights were one she was buzzing about, looking at everything from the pristine oven to the sterile marble counter tops. “You could perform surgery on this.” She murmured, trailing her fingers over the island.

She looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes. “So what are we having?”

“I was intending to do quail, but I do not know your preferences.” Hannibal said, taking his suit jacket off and draping it over the back of one of the barstools before doing the same with his vest. Abigail watched as he rolled up his sleeves.

“You mean if I’m vegetarian?” She said, placing her hands on the counter to drum her nails against it gently. He paused to stare at her expectantly and she shook her head. “I was raised by a carnivorous family. Beef is kinda an expected part of my diet now.”

“Well it seems we will get along just fine Abigail.” He said, giving the young girl a smile as he moved to the fridge to start taking out his ingredients and meat. He then moved to one of the many cupboards and took out a waxed bamboo cutting board, sliding it across the counter to her, he slid a knife from the knife holder which was stationed off to his left. “Noting her is vegetarian.”

Offering her the knife’s handle, he asked, “Slice the ginger for me?”

“Sure.” She said pleasantly, leaning forward to take it from his side of the counter. “How thin?”

“To the thinnest of your ability.” He replied as he took another cutting board for himself, opting to prepare the ingredients more slowly so he’d have more time to speak to her. She cut attentively, when placing the knife to close to her fingers she’d shuffle them away before continuing.

“So Abigail,” Hannibal spoke up, dicing a peeled carrot. “How long have you been staying with Will?”

Abigail nearly paused, he could see it, but continued. “Not too long.”

“Do you like it with him?” He asked casually, deciding not to push her too much in case she decided to shut down.

“He’s nice in his own way. Grumpy,” She grinned suddenly, giving him a mischievous look. “Why, want to know about all his bad habits beforehand?”

Hannibal laughed, shaking his head at her grin before making a slight gesture with his hand indicating for her to go on as he continued to cat up ingredients of his own. She laughed as well before starting, “Well, in the morning if you get between him and coffee, you should fear for your life.”

“He’s obsessive about folding his socks a certain way, but couldn’t care less about his underwear.” She continued as she started hacking up parsley that was offered to her once she’d finished the ginger. “He’s practically obsessive about his room being clean- not the rest of the house. And whatever you do-” she said, pointing a finger very seriously at Hannibal. “Do _not_ mention peanut butter.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at her last statement but before he could ask she continued, “He hates open spaces, especially if it’s neat and clean but also doesn’t like cramped areas.” She gave him a pointed look at her last statement. “And…”

Abigail trailed off, pursing her lips and looking down. Hannibal’s curiosity was officially perked and before he could stop himself he continued for her, “and what?”

She frowned as she met his eyes. Sighing he set aside her knife and laid her palms against the cool countertop. “Will has a lot of flaws,” she said cautiously, “But he doesn’t like getting close to people. Some days he’ll be perfectly fine- attached even- but others he’ll be cold and detached. I think it’s because of his empathy, but I’m not sure.”

“His empathy?” Hannibal said, definitely interested now, setting aside his knife like Abigail had and looking intently at her. Her brows scrunched together in confusion. “What, he didn’t tell you?”

“No, I have not heard of such.” Hannibal said, trying not to sound at interested as he truly was. Abigail made a somewhat frustrated noise before going back to her parsley.

“Figures.” She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s got something that people describe as ‘pure empathy’. It’s what makes him such a good profiler, he can feel the emotions of the killers and slide into their persona like a glove. He hasn’t failed to catch any of them.” She said with a twisty expression. “Well, except the Ripper.”

_Except the Ripper._

“That is quite a burden.” Hannibal murmured, returning to the fridge to grab the suction-sealed package of ‘quail’. He couldn’t repress the smile across his face as he returned to the counter.

“It takes its toll. Last year, well, he had something called Encephalitis- you’ve probably heard of it, being a psychiatrist and all, but it was caused by he looking into the mind of killers, so he took a break.” She said, her voice unimpressed as she added, “Which obviously his boss wouldn’t let him enjoy.”

Hannibal was pleased- more than, by how _chatty_ Abigail Hobbs could be when comfortable. She reached out, picking up the clear stiff plastic shell that was left once Hannibal had taken the quail out. Holding it up between two fingers, she raised an eyebrow as she look at him then to the wrapping. “I presume this isn’t store bought.”

“I have a personal butcher who believes the meat stays fresher this way." Hannibal said and Abigail nodded in understanding. “I used to hunt, but i'd never know that was a good way to keep meat fresh.” she murmured, picking at a spot on her hand.

Hannibal looked up in surprised, but not doubting. “You hunted? And what was your opinion on the sport?”

“Well, my dad taught me, I grew up in it. I found it relaxing.” She admitted, placing her knife aside and watching as Hannibal laid the quail in an olive oil laden baking pan before spreading varying spices over it. “Dad always said that hunting is just like falling in love. You’re hit with cupid’s arrow and you can run as far and long as you want to avoid the truth, but in the end it always hurts.” She grinned bashfully. “Cheesy, I know.”

“Nonsense. Your father seems like a wise man.” Hannibal said, adding Abigail’s sliced ginger and brutalized parsley, adding it on top the quail before placing his fingers into the mix and rubbing it all together as the young woman watched.

“He was.” Abigail said and Hannibal looked up at her from his ducked stance, seeing the sadness over her face. Realizing what he mean, he gave her his own attempt at a solemn expression. “I’m very sorry. I should have not reminded you of him. Condolences.”

“It’s fine. It was a year ago. I think I’m finally getting over it.” She said, shrugging as if to act like it didn’t affect her when it very obviously did.

“Death is not something one gets over easily Abigail, especially in the most saddest and terrible cases.”

Abigail shifted uncomfortably at his words, further confirming his theory her father’s death had not been a pleasant one, moving to wash his hands at the sink and give her a moment to rebuild her barriers behind his back, he casually decided to his her one more prod. “May I ask how he died?”

Abigail’s small suck in of breath made him smile as he lathered the citrus scented hand soap onto his fingers. “I’d rather not…” Abigail trailed uncertainly as Hannibal turned back to her, taking the tray from the counter, he nodded at her and added, “If you ever wish to do so, I am always available to a friend.”

She laughed. “A friend, huh? What does that make Will?”

 _My lover._ Hannibal instead tilted his head and gave her a sly smile. “I think you can figure that one out on your own.”

“Ah, so you’re the cool dad now?” He said teasingly as he pushed the tray into preheated oven and set the timer. “Winning over his new boyfriends kids?”

“Are there more of you I have to worry about. I’m sure one is already going to be the inevitable death of me.” Hannibal retorted, just as teasingly, making Abigail laugh. “Just the one then, I doubt Will is one to have a trail of bastard youths behind him.”

“No, I doubt it as well.” Abigail said with a wide grin, and Hannibal smiled back at her, examining the lines that spread out from the corner of her eyes as she did. Abigail was a very youthful, pure creature, and Hannibal could see why Will was so drawn to her. Much like a moth to light.

Abigail and Hannibal spent their time in his sitting room while waiting for the quail to finish, talking about small things. Abigail was quite enthusiastic about Marissa Schurr, something Hannibal found completely pointless. Hannibal's cat, a sphinx named Katė, which apparently meant 'cat' in Lithuanian, had made her own appearance with a slight purring noise and jumping onto Hannibal's lap. With large peach and black ears and a frail looking body, she'd been the last thing Abigail expected and almost squealed when the cat left Hannibal to investigate her.

"You named your cat 'cat'?" Abigail had asked as he rain her fingers down it's slightly fuzzy spine. It's yellow eyes had shined at her with boredom and intelligence to rival even Hannibal's default stance. Hannibal had inclined his head and she'd grinned, watching the cat patter off before leaning back in her seat to grin at Hannibal and continue their conversation about Abigail's friend.

“You are a pillar for here from what is sounds like.” Hannibal said, drawing from what he'd heard so far as he leaning back in his seat, watching as she sipped her tea- something Hannibal had offered her and she’d greatly accepted. She was on her second cup and had found that it had an ‘interesting taste. Hannibal had smiled and made a note to probably remind Will Graham the dangerous of not inquiring what was in a drink before taking it. Although it’d hardly matter soon.

Abigail nodded. “Yeah, she had a rather abusive dad and has been fighting depression for a while now.”

“Has her cutting finished?” Hannibal asked, mostly digging into the idea of the source of the dried blood scent coming off of Marissa had been from. Abigail lowered her mug from her mouth. “How did you know?”

“Psychiatrist.” Hannibal said simply, tilting his head, awaiting the answer.

“I think so. I don’t see any new ones but she could’ve moved to a more hidden area where I can’t see them.” Abigail said with a shrug.

“Abigail.” Hannibal said her name, not as a demand, but as a request of honesty, and she met his eyes evenly, even as she raised her chin and squared her shoulders. He was trying to stare him down, a desperate attempt that she failed at before huffing and leaning back in her seat. “If you’re suggesting her inner thighs, we’re not together. So no, I don’t know.”

“But you’d like to be together.” He prompted in interest and she nodded cautiously. “How long have you been harboring these feelings for your friend?”

Abigail sighed in defeat and shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just, one day I looked over that there she was,” he said, her voice somewhat desperate while still defeated. “She was all I could’ve asked for and more.”

“And do you feel that way now?”

“I feel like if I don’t support her as a _friend,_ I won’t be able to support her at all.”

“So you plan to make no advances.” Hannibal concluded and Abigail nodded, looking away toward the clear glass of her mug, examining the golden tea inside. “Do you possibly know if the feeling is mutual in any way?” He prodded instead and Abigail shrugged.

“Marissa’s always been a…” Abigail trailed off, looking for the appropriate word. “ _Party girl.”_ She decided on before continuing in explanation. “It’s not that she hasn’t been with girls, it was just more in an alcohol or drug fueled rush. I don’t know if she has any actual _attraction_ to them.”

Hannibal nodded in understanding before Abigail questioned, “How about you- when did you realize you were into men?”

“I am not strictly into the male sex.” Hannibal said, lacing his fingers together in his lap as he switched the way his legs were crossed. “I am rather open to all sexes.”

“So, like, pansexual?” Abigail question and Hannibal inclined his head at her term and she nodded. “I read up on this stuff. Will had no idea what to call himself and said it really didn’t matter to him, but I still wanted him to have _something._ And it was bugging me.”

Hannibal smiled, letting himself give a slight tremor of laughter at her statement. The alarm for the oven choose that time to set itself off. Hannibal gracefully untangled himself and stood, Abigail doing the same and carrying her mug to the kitchen.

Abigail watched as Hannibal plated their quail, Hannibal set it up with a simple cream sauce he’d needed that morning, and added a few neatly organized lettuce leaves and radishes. “Please follow me.” He said, carrying both plates in the direction of the dining room.

Abigail looked around the room, admiring the colors and the scent of the herb boxes. Her eyes paused on the painting above the fireplace and a slow blush crept over her face before he quickly averted her eyes. “Leda and the Swan?” he murmured.

“Indeed.”

“Interesting thing to hang in a dining room.” Abigail said as she took a seat, Hannibal smiled at did the same. “I wonder how many lose their appetites?” he said, tilting her head with narrowed eyes that were not accusing but searching for a response.

“I consider it a test, those whose stomach becomes light at the sight of bestiality versus those who continue on their meal as if they had never noticed it.” Hannibal murmured, pouring himself a glass of wine that he’d let in the open to air out. “It shows interesting character. You for instance, seem not to be bothered, and neither does Will.”

“How many are?” She asked as she finally took a cut of her quail onto her fork.

“Enough that I must take it down during my dinner parties.” He said, smiling as he watched her take her bite. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the taste before a strange look came upon her face. “You know,” he said, her tone having definitely changed. “I have had quail before, and I have never came upon any that has had a texture such as this. It’s usually much rougher meat.”

“Is it really.” Hannibal murmured, not breaking her eye contact as he tiled his head, taking a bite himself.

“In fact, I only know one meat that has this texture. My father used to enjoy cooking it for me and my mother.” Abigail said, also keeping eye contact she he took a long drink from her mug.

Hannibal’s expression was almost competitive as he took another bite of his food, his eyes practically glue to Abigail’s as she, rather slowly, did the same. They shared a small smile, and enjoyed their meal.

The meat was not quail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABIGAIL IS ONTO U BITCH
> 
> Next chapter = Shit hitting the fan.  
> Sorry for any mistakes i just want to get this chapter done because i'm excited for my plans to start playing out. I'm just taunting now. And BTW, Who said it was only Abigail or Marissa that could possibly be victimized? Just saying.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will deals with the Calling Card Killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly i am quite sorry for the long delay, and because of it i decided to spit this chapter in two and have 'shit hit the fan' NEXT chapter. Basically a lot of 'vroom vroom, oh shit, bang, beep beep beep.' coming along.
> 
> I know, i'm basically four.  
> Anyway, unbeta'd and sorry for the wait.

Will spent his time on the plane to Massachusetts wishing he was anywhere but there.

Beverly was in the seat next to his, having pushed up the armrest so she could flop her head against his shoulder and snore gently. Will honestly did mind her at all, it gave him a slight easy-going domestic feel to this entire fucking disaster.

He felt guilty- extremely so- for not only skipping Hannibal’s dinner party, but also ditching a teenage… well, whatever Abigail was, at the man’s doorstep in the request he watch her for a week. Will grimaced. Things were moving fast, and knowing Abigail, Hannibal probably knew what side of his mouth he preferred to chew on by now. Abigail was a nice girl, but overly chatty.

The ‘Calling Card’ killer, so artfully named by _somebody,_ was a partially profiled killer who killed wealthier men in their mid to late forties and cut out their tongue to leave dollar bills in their stead. The man was disorganized, but highly accomplished and skilled in this field. Will could already tell this case was going to end horribly.

Beverly snuffled, shuffling her head as she mumbled something into the thick burlap-like material of Will’s army green jacket. Will shifted gently so she was in a more comfortable position. Brian, Jimmy, and Jack were all in different parts of the place, as well as one or two other necessary agents that the local NPD wouldn’t be able to supply.

It had been just the day before that the Ripper was their biggest worry, he thought non-to-fondly of each crime scene- five, in total. Some up to three or four days old only recovered recently, as if the universe decided all at once to drop the crimes in their lap and wave adios.

Will had sat in Jack’s overstuffed office when he could’ve been anywhere _but_ there, listening to the profiler of the Ripper for the umpteenth time when the call came in. Jack had tried to ignore it, but it became incessant. After leaving the room for a few minutes, he came barreling back into announce the Ripper would have to ‘wait’ and that the Calling Card Killer was back on the board.

Will was seriously going to have to make this up to Hannibal- the guilt of skipping out and then dumping Abigail with the man was knawing at him. He knew she shouldn’t be worried and Hannibal insisted all was fine, but the anxiety of it all was horrible.

Will wanted to doze off as Beverly had, but his thoughts kept him from doing so. The weight of it all, the thoughts, the ideas, all so stressing and pressuring to the point of pain. Moving so as not to wake Katz, Will took his travel=sized Advil out of his pocket and knocked back a few.

When they arrived, Will felt bad for having to wake Beverly, but she seemed well-rested and gave him a lazy, sleepy grin as he handed over her bag. After piling out the plane, Beverly found Price and Zeller practically immediately, further proving Will’s thoughts that the three must be connected by some sort of magnets in their guts that dragged them together.

“Smell that Boston air!” Jimmy exclaimed, spreading his arms as Brian pushed his hands into his pockets, shaking his head and grinning fondly at the other man.

“Not exactly refreshing.” Beverly said as they regrouped. Brian snorted. “Anyway, where’s Jack?”

“Probably riding second class.” Brian grumbled, obviously implying his stiff legged stand from the cramp seating arrangements.  Jimmy smacked her lightly and affectionately on the arm. “Stop complaining, Jack _is_ the boss.”

“And some of you ought to start remembering that.” Jack’s voice came from behind them. It wasn’t completely serious, but Will knew a jab at him when he heard one, and it seems Brian did as well. It seems like the only thing the two men had in common was the need to back-talk consistently.

The ride to the police headquarters was as most cab rides were. After a quick stop at the motel they were booked into- It was nicer than regular, not classy but nor was it trashy, which something Will was all to use to, especially in remote area cases- to drop their things. Will luckily enough got the single bedroom, while Beverly had own as well as Brian and Zeller, who in Will’s case didn’t have any comment.

The day was spent on briefing, Will diving headlong into the profile. Jack had dragged him out to the crime scene, forcing Will to give him anything new. Naturally, there was nothing, leaving them both aggressive and frustrated. The only thing Will had caught out of it was chaos- not that it hadn’t been there before, but it seemed to have become wilder, poisonous.

Will had no idea why or how the FBI had jurisdiction on this case               , maybe because Calling Card had been a travelling killer, Will didn’t know, but as she stood in front of the man who was attached to the wall via pipes and long iron nails, he just prayed it’d be over soon so he could go home.

“He’s getting messy.” Beverly murmured, also picking up on Wills’ previous thoughts. She was squatting in front of the blood, smears long and wide over the white tiles of the floor and walls. A public bathroom of a mall was an interesting place to dump a person, giving the killer little time to set this all up. “He either works here or broke in.” Will murmured and Jimmy made a noise of agreement.

“Look here,” It was Brian who spoke this time, his camera on a strap around her throat laid still against shit chest as he held back the fingers of the man’s hand. “No restraints.” 

“Typical to the other cases.” Beverly said with a sigh. “The blood everywhere is a new bit though.”

“He’s devolving.” Will murmured. “Growing frenzied.”

“Maybe he was in prison? Petty crime and got out on good behavior?” Jimmy suggested. “Could be why he was gone for so long.”

“Possibly, but I doubt that it could cause this.” Brian said with a frown.

Will sighed, leaning against the wall and bringing one hand up to rub his eyes. “Depends,” he said, a bit louder this time before looking up at the others. “On what could’ve happened to him in prison.”

“Are you suggesting rape?” Jimmy said, straightening as he turned towards Will.

“Suggesting. We still don’t know if he even went to prison. He could’ve been on vacation in the Bahamas for all we know.” Will said, sweeping an arm out to gesture to the body.

“A killer like the Calling Card wouldn’t be able to control his compulsions for a year.” Beverly said, frowning at the body, narrowing her eyes at the victim as if to silently demand he reveal the truth of its death. “There has to be some reason he wasn’t killing.”

“Well,” Will said, pushing himself off the wall. “Beverly’s right, he’s compulsive, this isn’t going to be the last person that shows up like this.”

“Just once I’d like to be called in on a stabbing.” Came the sedate voice of Jack Crawford as he pushed himself into the room. “How long do you think we have until he strikes again?”

At once, everyone in the conversation turned their eyes to Will, who was mildly offended by this. “How would I know? I don’t have his _calendar_.”

“Aren’t you the best at what you do?” Brian said snidely, earning a savage look from Will.

“I’m the only at what I do. It doesn’t mean I can pull answers out of my ass.”

“Isn’t that what you do already?”

The look on Will’s face must’ve given away that he was one step away from turning the dead body count in the room from a one to a two because Beverly quickly stepped in. “We can’t be determined with this killer Jack, he’s growing unstable. He could kill against today, tomorrow, or not at all for weeks or even months.”

“So what you’re saying,” Jack said slowly, meeting everyone’s eyes one by one. “That we have _nothing_ except for the fact that he’s breaking down?”

The group stared in different directions, as if trying to avoid Jacks’ scrutiny. Will swallowed hard before deciding somebody had the balls to speak up. “It’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

His sentence gained him the gaze of the others again, making him squirm uncomfortably. “It’s basic profiling,” he murmured. “He’s breaking apart at the seams, his pattern is going to be doing the same. He’s delusional and something is warping his delusion.”

Will made a gesture again towards the body. “Something on him with be an indicator of that. We may not see it now but Zeller and Price will likely find something.”

“What should we be looking for?” Jimmy asked, curiously as he moved closer to the body, leaning in to investigate the greyed face. “Would it be dirt or a cut?”

“Something that would give us something new about the killer.” Beverly murmured, just as curiously. “Sexual assault maybe?”

Will smiled bitterly. “A calling card.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know about you but I could use a drink.” Beverly announced, draping an arm around Will where he sat, making him jump. It’d been two days and no other body had shown up, making Will not only antsy but worried. He’d promised Abigail he wouldn’t be longer than a week and he was going to live up to that, but until then, he couldn’t help but think about her and Hannibal, how they must be doing.

“I don’t think I should.” He murmured, not taking his eyes off the crime scene photo he was picking apart with his gaze.

“Is this the one where you stare at it long enough you see the image of the swan?” She asked sarcastically before reaching over to close the file and place her hand sternly over it. “ _You_ have been working way too much. You need a break.”

“If I need a break I can get another cup of coffee.” He grumbled, trying to pull her hand off his case file.

“Yeah, no, get up.” She said, pulling his chair back with a surprising amount of strength and grabbed him by the arm. “Up. You haven’t left this motel room for two days and the dead body you’ve been staring at now looks more lifelike than you.”

“You sure know the right things to say to a guy, Bev.” Will said dryly as he stood, earning him a shove towards the bathroom.

“You bet. Now you’re going to shower, change into something you _haven’t_ worn for two days, and come out with me to relax and not think about murder for one night.”

“You’re asking a lot of me Beverly, I don’t know if I can’t handle it.” Will said, his tone dry and sarcastic. Beverly raised her eyebrows, leaning on one leg as she placed a hand on her hip. Will quickly understood she meant business and went into the washroom, closing the door.

By the time he’d finished showering and attempting to groom his straggly beginnings of a beard. He’d wait until he arrived home to trim it back into shape. Poking his head out the bathroom door, he looked around to see where Beverly was. On the unslept in bed, a pair of jeans and a button-down sat at the edge.

Will snorted at her act mimicking one of a parents. It was oddly sweet in its own way. He never really wanted to go out that night, but it seems if he didn’t Beverly would actually break down his door and drag him out.

Yanking on fresh underwear and the jeans Beverly had left him, he noticed that the shirt was one he’d never packed, the silvery blue one he’d worn on his date with Hannibal. He mulled over the thought Abigail had probably stuffed it into his back when she’d found it in the laundry. It wouldn’t surprise him if she’d told Beverly to take him out sometime.

Frowning as he buttoned it up, he wondered if he could just have on night without anything intruding. Sometimes the intrusions would be nice, sure, but other times it wasn’t. The nightmares, the hallucinations, the crime scenes, Beverly unlocking his door at three AM to talk about her bad breakup with Craig the Romanian guy down the hall. Well, at least the last one wasn’t so bad.

Pulling on the only other jacket he’d brought, a black blazer a little too big for him, and pulling on his boots, Will left his motel room and locked it. Beverly’s room was two doors down from his, so that’d where Will went, knocking lightly.

Jimmy was the one who opened the door, and his surprise wasn’t very subtle as he looked Will up and down before stepping back to let him in. Brian came into view, dressed simply like Will, he sat beside Beverly who was in a pair of jeans a tight t-shirt that displayed the words M*A*S*H across the chest.

“Looking good Will.” She said with a grin, heaving herself up to pull on her red leather jacket- a worn thing she’d bought while on a case. A few houses over from the crime scene had been having a garage sale before moving as quickly as they could from the neighborhood, it’d been ‘love at first sight’.

“Yeah, nice to know not everything you buy is from Goodwill or from hobos.” Brian said, staring up at Will, who bit his tongue in order not to say something back. Luckily, Jimmy was already on that, saying Brian’s name in a joking but still patronizing manor.

“Well, there’s a bar not far from here, I figured it’d be a good place.” Beverly said, obviously to break the tension.

“Is anyone else coming?” Will asked, turning bodily towards her to block out Brian.

“I invited a few officers who said they’d meet us there, as well as few local agents and Jack, but I’m pretty sure they don’t want to fraternize with a few lowly scientists in a greasy bar.”

“Don’t forget the mentally unstable nutjob.” Brian grumbled, and Will, very openly, flipped him off. It shocked not only Brian but Jimmy and Beverly too, seeing how uncharacteristic of him it was.

“Walking or driving?” Jimmy said, voice unnaturally high with false happiness as he asked, but his eyes revealed desperate he was for this situation to end.

“Walking.” Beverly and Will said together, giving each other awkward glances when they realized they said it together. Will’s reason was for fresh air, while Beverly didn’t want to be trapped in a car for ten minutes with the lot of them bickering like an old couple.

The walk to the bar was painfully awkward. Jimmy and Brian chatted quietly, Beverly intervening now and then as well as twiddling some opinion out of Will. The sooner they got there and broke ranks, the sooner they’d all be able to find their own areas to cool down.

Will’s feet crunched over the gravel as they walked down the side of the road, the moon was starting to come out and it’d gotten dark faster with the coming winter. If Will had to guess, he’d say it was probably already snowing in Wolftrap.

The bar Beverly had told them about was a rural one, not too far out of the suburbs, it was meant for more of the county families. It was dark red brick that was chipped with age and layered tin roofing. As they crossed the road, Will could already smell the cigarettes and stale alcohol. A scent he was all too familiar with.

A heavy cloud of smoke clung to the low slung ceiling As Will had predicted, Zeller and Price broke off from them the minute they were in the door, leaving Beverly and him to wander aimlessly towards the bar.

Will’s mind flicked over everything about the space- the eleven people in total, the wood counter rough with engravings, the questionable looking bottles and glasses lined behind the bar. The way the woman in the raunchy shirt was eyeing him with an interest that would not be returned. Thousands of things piling one on top of each oth-

“Will?”

“Hm?” He murmured, looking to where she’d sat on a hard wooden stool, Beverly insistently patted the one beside hers at the bend in the bar. Will sat down, and the bartender was there quickly; a woman with a burlesque build, dressed in leathers and flannels. Will went for his regular whiskey while Beverly went for a rum Cooler. 

“So,” She said, running her finger around the top of her bottle as Will took a sip from the chipped tumbler of his whiskey. He was slouched of the bar in a style that must’ve made him look like any old poor sap after a long day at a desk job, few kids and a complaining wife at home. It couldn’t be any more different of a story.

“So.” He said back, taking a heavier sip of his drink.

“What’re you going to do about Dr. Sexy foreign psychiatrist?” She said teasingly, poking him in the side with her finger, making him jump and attempt to squirm away.

Will snorted. “How do you know he’s sexy?”

“Because _anybody_ who has an accent like that isn’t unattractive.” She said with a grin.

“I don’t know Bev.” He said with a sigh, sitting back to rub his hands over his eyes before letting one fall to the counter with a thud, leaving the other to nervously pinch at the fabric of his jeans. “I got out first dinner date interrupted, the second I skipped, and then I dump my adopted teenager in his lap for god knows how long.”

“Well your first date went well didn’t it?” She asked with a frown. Will laughed, strained and slightly hysterical. “Which one? The one where I was ready to start throwing punches over a parking space or the one where we actually drank coffee and I made a fool of myself.”

“Speaking of your desire to throw punches,” She said, placing her elbows on the counter and leaning forward towards him. “You haven’t been following your schedule since you met this guy.”

Will frowned, thinking her statement over. It was true; his waking times were irregular, his work times as well, but it wasn’t just Hannibal- It was the Chesapeake Ripper and now Calling Card. He’d only had a few of these interrupts, a day tops, but it seems like Hannibal had knocked down dominos but wandering into his life, and Will hadn’t even realized it.

Will shrugged in response, taking another mouthful of whiskey. “Doesn’t matter.”

Beverly spluttered. “ _Do-Doesn’t Matter_? Who are you and what have you done with Will Graham?”

Will snorted at her dramatic falsely appalled tone. “So no, I don’t know what I’m going to do to make it up to Hannibal.”

Beverly shook her head, obviously thinking deeply over everything. “Well, you could suck his dick.”

Will choked on his next mouthful of whiskey.            

 

* * *

 

 

Will had promised himself he wouldn’t drink for a while, but apparently when I came to that particular coping mechanism, it was going to take his liver failing for him to stop. He vaguely remembered Beverly ordering a round of vodka shots, ending with him and her absolutely plastered- something that was a grand occasion since it’d been years since Will was properly smashed.

And Will felt every bit of the hangover- his head was screaming, his tongue like leather in his dry mouth. He groaned, low and deep as he tried to roll over, which also turned out to be a painful experience and gave up rather quickly on the deed. It’s only when Will’s mind registered the shower was going as well as the slowly receding body heat in the bed space beside him that he sat bolt upright to stare the closed bathroom door in horror.

He couldn’t remember anything of last night, but all he knew what that he was very naked and very hungover. Will practically choked at the thought of him having drunk sex with someone, it would’ve have bugged him as much if he wasn’t officially in a relationship with Hannibal.

The water stopped and Will pushed himself up to the headboard, dragging the sheets up onto his lap. There was the sound of damp feet on tiles and after a few heart-stopping moments of fabric ruffling and tap water running, the door opened to show Beverly, a towel wound another her head, holding her hair to dry it.

“ _Beverly?”_ Will spluttered incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh good you’re up.” She said, tossing a bottle of Advil Extra Strength onto his lap. “As for your second question, I slept with you, remember?”

“You what?” Will squeaked in absolute horror, Beverly turned from scooping what appeared to be his jeans off the floor to look at him. She laughed at the disbelief and plain terror on his face. “Not like that, we were both drunk.”

“Then why am I naked?” She said, relaxing more and narrowing his eyes. She snorted.

“Calm down, I did too, we were both bitching about it being too hot. I’m pretty sure some lyrics from that new pop song got involved and we both shredded.”

“This breaks so many professional and friendship boundaries.” Will said with a scowl as he downed some Advil dry.

“The professional part is true but we already broke those, and like I said; relax. Girls see each other naked all the time.”

“I’m not a girl though.” He said, face glowing bright red as he glared at her, holding his blanket up to his chest.

“Well, you’re acting like one.” She said, motioning to his covered chest. “And believe me, I know, you have the wrong parts. Now get dressed,” She said, tossing his pants from last night at him. “Jack called. We have another body on our hands. Also, don’t stand to quick, you’ll puke. Trust me.”

Will watched as she quietly exited the room. Another body.

Will sighed deeply, this case was going to be a lot longer than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Brian always seemed kinda dickish to Will, but it never makes me like him any less.  
> The last part was a mate of mine on tumblr's suggestion (They literally said they kinda enjoyed my fic and i screamed for like 20 minutes because this means a lot to me)
> 
> Anyway, i promise this won't drag out to much; Will and Hannibal will do the dirty-dirty, People Will die (kinda), and all within like another seven to ten chapters. At the least.
> 
> All of my profiling shit i get from Criminal Minds because believe it or not that show can actually be scarier than Hannibal and it's also super cool and survived ten years without becoming a soap opera or drying out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is on the path to catching the killer as more information and bodies come his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize now.  
> Not only for being long to update.  
> But for what you're about to read.  
> Still unbeta'd.

Will all but dragged himself into the office Jack had taken up residence in for this case. The local police had let them invade, but many were still unwelcoming, banging shoulders against Will’s, causing him to bite his tongue till he tasted blood so as not to turn at clock the next one who did it in.

Jack had texted him that he would be picking Will up from outside the building, making Will frown at the text. Why had he gone inside than? Shaking his head almost in an attempt to shake off his painful hangover. By the time he sluggishly moved back outside, he could see Jack’s large black SUV pull up and without question, climbed in.

Will didn’t pay attention to Jacks’ briefing, watching the buildings outside the window zip by in a burry haze as his head swam in alcohol induced fogginess.

“Are you listening to me?”

Will snapped out of it, well, as much as he could. Turning to look at Jack, he realized the car had stopped at the edge of a large lot surrounded by chain-link fence. It seemed like not all of the fogginess was in Wills’ head and he observed the thick gray crawling through the dewy, cold air.

Jack attempts to make eye contact before making an aggravated huffing noise. “No, of course you wouldn’t.” he grumbled, climbing out of the car and Will took it as an indicator to pull himself together and do the same. He’s head swam blearily as he did so. Whatever the fuck was in those shots last night had hit him hard, or maybe it was because the case already had him in a weakened state of mind. He didn’t know nor cared.

The body was truly a sight. It came into view the farther Will and Jack walked into the fog, giving it an almost grotesquely mystic appearance. A cross had been placed into the ground, leaving cracks and bits of pavements surrounding it where the victim’s toes barely touched. A crown of brambles were placed around the light, curly hair of the corpse, who was completely bare and crucified perfectly in place.

Agents wandered about, snapping photos, and a few local cops were aside, talking to the three teenagers who found the body. Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian were flitting around, all in varying degrees of hangovers. It appears Will got hit the hardest second to Jimmy, who was actually wearing _sunglasses_ in the fog. Beverly gave him a smile in greeting, but it’s all he got from the three before Jack announced to clear the area and give Will space.

Will sighed, sliding his crooked glasses from his nose and rubbing his eyes. Alone in this foggy space except for Jack who stood a little far off, he could almost pretend he was dead, at peace with his surroundings. It was a nice feeling, the isolation, the lack or noise. He could just stand there, a comfortable weight on his feet, and exist. Forever.

Shaking off his thoughts, Will Graham remembered that no matter what, he’d never be alone in his own head with killers like the Calling Card around, and so, he let his eyes slide shut and the tape rewind.

 

* * *

 

When Will came out of it, he staggered and with only a few seconds warning due to the burning in his throat that he was going to vomit. He turned away from the corpse as his stomach emptied, and he hear Jack’s rushing footsteps and a hand land gently on his stooped back.

“Will? Will are you okay?” Jack said, and Will could’ve sworn that his concern was legitimate. What a nice surprise that’d be.

“I’m fine.” He said, voice hoarse as he straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to shake off the shivers down his spine. “The victim was violated.”

“Excuse me?”

“He was violated, with a knife. When he body gets to the morgue have Jimmy and Price look.”

Will could tell Jack was on the edge of asking exactly _how_ he was violated, but something in Wills’ face gave it away. “He was alive Jack,” Will murmured, his voice strained. “He was alive for it.”

Will heard Jack’s quiet mumbled of ‘Jesus’ before he wolf whistled loudly enough that it echoed, obviously bidding the others to return. When the three scientists had returned, Will relayed his information to them as well as a few other bits.

Jimmy flinched and Brian looked away as he mentioned the way the Calling Card had violated this victim. “It’s a knife used for gutting fish,” He’d murmured. “Long, thin, slightly curved at the end and regularly kept extremely sharp. This tells us the killer is deteriorating fast and he’ll be easier to catch.”

 “The victims,” Will continues, now that he has started. “Are all males in their mid-twenties, hair color ranges in different shades of brown but always curly, stabbing is considered a substitute for sex and from the previous victims I’d say our killer is having a sexuality crisis on top of a mental disability. Schizophrenia possibly.”

“How did you get that so fast?” Questioned Jimmy, his voice dryer than Will’s. Will didn’t meet any of their prying eyes. “This victim is different it’s a certification.”

“Certification of what?” Beverly said, tilting her head.

“That he’s going to get caught.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So would you know the killer if you met him?” Will paused as Beverly walked up beside him, offering him a water bottle. Seeing as he’d driven twenty minutes there and Jack wasn’t finished, his only option was to hang around or walk back. He was starting to find the walking back as a good idea.

“I might. It’d take a minute or two.” Will murmured, thinking about ho Hannibal had told him that the Chesapeake Ripper could’ve been anyone around him. Had Will actually met the Chesapeake Ripper? Had he shaken the mans’ hand and introduced himself? Was he there now?

Will shuddered at the thought. “I’m heading back. I need to think this over.” Beverly nodded and patted him on the shoulder and Will watched her leave with a feeling of vague nostalgia. How he wished to be home, to hug Abigail, to see Hannibal. At least he had her as a small comfort.

Will tucked his hands into his jacket, taking off down the sidewalk. It was still early enough that not a lot of people or cars were out, but Will skill had to move out of the way multiple times to avoid collision. He was a block away when a voice spoke up next to him. “’Scuse me sir.”

Will paused, wondering if it was a call to him, turning to look at the person who’d spoken. The brief eye contact they had was a confirmation enough and Will turned more bodily to the person in the opening of the alleyway. “Can I help you?” He said in confusion.

“Jus’ wantin’ to know what happened down at Pete’s lot.” The man said in an accent that definitely wasn’t from this area, bringing a cigarette up from between dirtied fingers to his lips and taking a drag.

“Pete’s lot?” Will said with a frown before he realized the stranger was talking about the murder. “You mean why the law enforcement is there.” Will stated at the man nodded. Will frowned suddenly.

“How did you know to ask me?”

“You’s one of them FBI fellows.” He said with a shrug. “Figured ya’d know.”

“How’d you know I’m FBI?”

The man shrugged as a response, so Will decided to move on and not try to deny or pry. “Who’s Pete? The lot is government owned.”

“Aye, but Pete n’ his group like to smoke down dere.” The man said. “’Is territory.”

“Really?” Will said, trying not to let any curiosity or excitement at the prospect of a witness wiggle into his tone. “Can you tell me anything about this Pete?”

“Whys you wantin’ to know?” The man said defensively, narrowing his gaze at Will. Will took this as an opportunity to worm himself some information out of the fellow- the stance he held himself at was one of a street kid, the grease and dirt confirmed this, but the amount of staining on his fingers said he must work around engines or at the very least vehicles to gain that much, his accent wasn’t from the area, so he probably moved here as a runaway or a place to find a better life. He knew the streets and whose area was whose. Will confirmed that man could be an asset as decided to reply with the most obvious answer.

“He might have seen something. Something important that could help the law out and get us FEDs off your streets quicker.” Will said, tilting his head. The man moved his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flicking from Will to different spots of the alley and people passing by it.

Finally, he nodded before turning to start down into the alleyway. “Follow me. It’s best we be goins inside anyways.”

Will paused, mouth open ready to say he probably shouldn’t when he realized, what the hell else could he do, and went after the man. When he immerged at the other end of the alley, will thought he must’ve lost the trail, but turned to see his potential witness leaning against the wall.

Will frowned as he looked around, it was a much darker area, more poverty in this area. “I presume we can talk here and not be overheard.”

“Pete’s been sayin’ some things.” The blond man said without replying to Will’s statement. “Bouts the area yous been snoppin in. Not jus the lot.”

“You mean the other crime scenes.”

“Aye.”

“Do you know what he’s said exactly?” Will asked, attention focused entirely on getting this information. Will very rarely did things like this, but it didn’t mean he was any less capable.

“Some strange lad had been creepin’ round before them bodies showed up.”

“So you did know what the crimes were.” Will said, earning a shrug and another puff of cigarette smoke rather close to his face, the smell reminding him of a past that he’d long since left behind. “Do you think you could introduce me to Pete?”

The man was lighting another cigarette, holding the end between his teeth as he ducked his head and cupped the lighter, but it was his eyes flicking up to Will’s that gave it away. Will took a step back, sobering. “He was the victim. I’m sorry.”

“’S okay.” The blond grunted. “Bit o’ a dick, really.”

“So you think he was killed because he kept seeing the same guy around areas where bodies showed up. Did he ever mention what he looked like?”

“Nah. It was always dark or foggy, lasts I heard the bloke had stopped showin up at the lot. Bouts three days b’fore Petes showed up.”

“Did Pete say anything to you about the figure showing up anywhere else before he died?”

The man made a noise of confirmation before saying, “Few blocks over, abandoned factory.”

Will paused, unsure whether or not to ask the next question. "Did you happen to know Pete's sexual orientation?"

"Whats kinda question are yous askin', sir." The blond man said, drawing back as if offended. 

"It's just information i need. It could help." Will said gently, and the eye contact he made said more about the fact he was probably the last thing from homophobic was proof enough. Will could've sworn judging respect was in the other man's brown eyes. 

"He was an interest in fellas, yeah, if that's whatcha mean."

"Thank you." Will replied, giving a small but thankful smile. “Is that all?” he asked finally, pushing his hands into his pocket. The blond nodded and waved his hand in an indication of dismissal. Will was barely down the alley back to the main road when the blond called back to him.

“I wanted to warns you, Mista Graham.”

Will paused, turning his eyes and looking out of the corner of his eye back. The blond wasn’t looking at him, still leaning into the wall and smoking his cigarettes, the end of which lit the area around him with orange embers.

“Ifs us street folks know bouts you, how long dos ya think it’ll take the Callins Card to?”

Will’s pace was a little quicker as he continued down the alley. He could’ve sworn the blond man was laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack was, as usual, very bipolar about the news.

Angry about Will going into a possibly dangerous situation with a shady character promising information, but also pleased at the new information that came from said shady character, he’d practically been between yelling and congratulating Will for the last half hour.

It was decided by the group that they’d have somebody posted at the factory in a civilian vehicle at all times. And with the raise of petty crimes in relation to the FBI being back in the area, as well as the calls and people coming into the office saying they were the killer yet knowing no details of the murders, left the only two possible people that could spare and brush their hands clean of for a while without problem.

Beverly Katz and Will Graham.

So now Will sat in the passenger side of a modern and uncomfortably cramped rental car beside his friend, who was humming along to whatever pop song was on the radio now. The Calling Card had struck relatively quickly on the last murder, bringing either tonight or the next night into the killers’ time zone, destining him to another night of this.

Beverly didn’t seem to mind- in fact she’d seen this as a great opportunity to chat apparently. “So, have you called Abigail yet?”

“I haven’t had the chance.” Will murmured, staring out his window towards the street. It was dark and quiet, only the occasion person rushing along quickly, or a slow rolling car. Will could’ve sworn a half hour ago he saw a dealer and a client in the rearview mirror, but by the time he’d looked back, they were gone.

“And she hasn’t called you?” Beverly said, somewhat incredulously, leaning back into her seat. “That’s strange.”

Will frowned, pondering her words. Abigail was usually one to call Will if he didn’t call her first. In fact, he had no idea how long he would be gone and leaving her with Hannibal, and yet, neither of them had even sent him a text.

“Should I worry?” he asked suddenly, turning to look at her from where he was hunched up against the door, a mass of dark clothing and pale skin in the blackness of the night.

“That depends. How confident are you in Hannibal’s abilities.” She said, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“Confident enough.” Will murmured, enjoying the coolness of the window against his temple.

Beverly gave a quiet, honest laugh, making Will open his eyes and shuffle his head to the side to stare at her through exhausted lids. “What?”

“You’ve just got it so bad.” She said quietly, grinning over at him sweetly. In that quiet moment, with the radio humming silently, Beverly grinning slightly at him, and under the moonlight, Will accepted the truth. He barely knew Hannibal, kissed the man only one, and yet he felt extremely intimate with him and wanted to be around him until the very day he died.

He didn’t confirm Beverly, nor deny her, just gave her a slight smile of his own, which was confirmation enough for her.

“So,” he murmured again after a few minutes of silence. “Have you done the deed yet or what?”

Will knew there was more behind the question from the way she stared. _Did he see the scars? Have you spilled your gut in a way you’ll regret in the future?_ Will bit into his bottom lip, knowing full well what even sex could cause. It’s why he’d become, well as Beverly put it, ‘temporarily celibate’. Will had never been the one for one night stands in the first place, so sex being absent from his life didn’t matter, it was easier than having to explain the lacerations and go back into his past and memories to do so.

“Beverly.” Will scolded weakly, knowing his joking manor would relax her a bit and earned him a feisty, bemused look that made him laugh slightly. “ _No,_ we haven’t done the deed.”

“Damn it Will,” She said in fake annoyance, sarcastically smacking her hand against the steering wheel before turning back to him. “How hard is it to put his dick in your mouth.”

This time Will’s voice climbed a few octaves as he bewilderingly snapped her name out in protest to her vulgar words, making her laugh a little harder and reach out to smack him on the thigh.

“Alright, I’ll lay off, but promise me when you get back that you’ll call me to watch Abigail and spend a few well deserved hours with your lover boy.” She said, smiling almost maternally at Will, who snorted.

“Fine.”

“Atta boy.” She said jovially, before turning her attention back to the factory- not a large thing, but rustic and old with dark red bricks and boarded windows, heavily graphitized and a few stories high- meant for reaching up rather than out to take up less space. They were parked in the back, where Will has said they were most likely going to run into the killer because more pedestrians traveled in the front area even this last at night.

“So do you think _our_ boy is going to show?” She asked, switching the topic out smoothly and making Will relax slightly. “Because I keep thinking about it and, if he did, what would happen?”

The question was more to herself, so he sat back without answering and let her ramble on. “Would he surrender easily with our guns on him, or would the victim be alive and he’d threaten their lives, would we shoot him- where would we _put_ him we’re in a rental car.”

“Maybe a high-speed action movie car chase.” Will murmured, a slight smile curving his lips. Beverly snorted, mumbled “ _I wish._ ” under her breath blearily.

The silence thickened once more and the time ticked by, and this time when Beverly spoke, it was more quiet and withdrawn, and her words completely shocked Will in a way he’d never forget.

“I think I want to have kids.”

Will turned his head to look at her. She’d taken up a position like his with her temple placed to the widow, staring straight ahead into the darkness of the night. Will wasn’t sure what to say or what she wanted him to say, opening his mouth slightly in confusion as his brows furrowed, “I-“

“I mean, it’s sudden, I know.” She murmured, completely overlapping his confused bumbling as if she didn’t hear it- which he was suspecting she hadn’t. “I found a grey hair yesterday and realized my maternal clock is ticking. My mother always used to tell me if I didn’t have a daughter I’d be the last female in my line. It’d just… _end._ With me. And it’s a scary thought not having anyone to live up to you, to hold a part of your genetics to pass on for generations, y’know.”

Will knew. Will knew very well and he’d also felt like this before. Mostly when he was younger- his cop days in New Orleans, surrounded by big families everywhere he looked, it’d seemed the norm, but as he’d gotten older and his physical and mental states began to diminish, the idea of having some poor bastard carry the same burden of shitty genetics made him uncomfortable.

The feeling of having a family was alien to him, as was the idea of settling down with a woman and having a few kids and a dog in a pastel house with a white picket fence. Will had seen what his mother walking out had done to the man and never had wanted to experience a deep connection like that being severed, neither being a single parent.

And yet here he was, so obviously smitten with Hannibal and being a single parent to Abigail. It seemed like everything from his past came back to bite him in the ass. Will shuddered at the thought. Just so long as he kept his accent buried beneath the surface, he wouldn’t have to face any of his highschool year traumas that revolved mostly around it.

“Will, Hey- pay attention.” Beverly said, suddenly wide awake and reaching over to whack Will, making him hiss and rub his check where the back of her fingers had made contact.

“What?” he grumbled, sitting up straighter to shoot her a glare, but her gaze was focused on something moving outside. Will suddenly thought back to whenever one of his dogs spotted a rabbit or squirrel- their tail sticking bolt upright as muscles strained as they raised their head and locked their eyes onto prey.                                  

And Beverly’s prey was a figure coming out of a bulky van, almost unseen in the dark. Will hurriedly rubbed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat as he hastily pulled his glasses out and pressed them onto his face. The van was positioned so the back end stuck out where they could see it, but if Will leaned to the side he could just barely see the door slide open and the figure reach inside-

“Is that…?” Will said, eyes straining to see what the figure was doing. “That’s a body.” He murmured in shock, and there was no mistaking the shade or the white sheet secured sternly around the body with ropes to keep it from hanging out.

Both Will and Beverly were stunned easy to say- while both of them knew it’d been a possibility, the fact they were now facing what appeared to be an _actual_ situation left them gobsmacked.

Beverly was quicker, smoothly leaving her car door and having her gun upholstered within seconds as she silently shut it. Will grabbed the portable police com they’d been given and hastily murmured their situation and location into it before scrambled out himself, opting to stand behind his open door and raise his gun from there if he needed cover.

Beverly was bolder, taking a few steps from the car as waiting with her gun at the ready, the badge strapped to the narrow waist of her jeans viewable to the eye. Will’s heart accelerated as he heard the door slide shut before the grunt of the body being hoisted, and the figure turning the corner.

“FBI drop the body and hands in the air.” Beverly shouted, wasting no time, and it seemed their killer wasn’t either, dropping the body in such a manor it rolled down the slightly inclined plane to Beverly feet. Keeping her eyes on the man as well as her gun, she slowly bent and wiggled her fingers through the sheet to check for a pulse. By the way she straightened Will would guess the person was already dead. The Calling Card- Will had zero to no doubts who this was now and was very pointedly avoiding the man’s eyes- placed his hands behind his head in an uncharacteristic fashion, making Will lower his gun slightly and frown. Beverly did the same just as Will realized what had happened.

With a wicked grin, the killer had a gun of his own and was shooting, Will’s yell to duck was too late a bullet tore through the top of Beverly’s shoulder, making her emit a yell of pain before lifting her own weapon and one-handedly shooting a hail of bullets after the escaping killer.

Will made a move to go to her but she was already sprinting back to the car and paying barely any mind to her bleeding arm. “Don’t worry about me! Call this in and get in the car we can’t lose this guy again.”

Will hastily obeyed, clambering into the car and grabbing the com, all but shouting into it as his finger shook. “We have multiple shots fired, one agent sustained non-fatal injuries and we are in pursuit now.”

Will didn’t have time to buckle up as Beverly slammed her foot down on the gas and when straight after the van which had pulled out mere seconds ago. Will had to guess at the way he and Beverly had been shooting at the man, he must have at the very _least_ been grazed.

Beverly moved around a risky corner, all but slamming Will into the side of the car and making his teeth rattle in his skull. What was that they’d said about action move car chases? He’d laugh if he wasn’t worried he’d bite his tongue off. Honestly, he was never going to watch one of those movies again, it was so grossly over exaggerated and watered down it floored him.

Literally. He was pretty sure if Beverly hit the brakes now he’d be floored.

“Where in the honest fuck is he going?” Beverly shouted as she whipped around another corner so viciously the back wheels kept moving while the front went another way. Will hissed slightly and dug his fingers into his thighs, scared to move lest he be brained against _something._

He was tempted to ask Beverly where she learned to drive when they turned down yet another corner into a dark area, all light clogged away by crumbling but high standing buildings. There was a few times when they’d lost the vehicle but quickly caught up, but now Will couldn’t see it at all. Beverly slowed to a stop, looking around before violently swearing and slamming her hand down on the steering wheel.

Will’s eyes slid over the area around the car but saw nothing. An ugly feeling filled up his chest cavity, dark and angry and brooding and he also felt tempted to slam his hands down, to yank his hair and yell at nothing. They’d been so fucking close to catching this guy- to going home and resting to know the bastard would be strapped into an electric chair so the world could dust its hands free of his filth.

Beverly started the car again, moving a decent pace down the dark alley, staring straight ahead with tired eyes that had given up, Will kept his eyes to his side of the street, although he barely saw anything except… “We might as well check-“

Everything happening in pieces. Beverly’s voice was silenced as Will’s brain tried to function, the car speeding out of a side alley, his body leaning away from the door unconsciously, his eyes widening, his mouth opening to shout out a warning all too late for Beverly as metal dented inward, glass chattered, the momentum of the other vehicle slamming their into the wall, the whiplash, the pain, all too much as Will felt a thousand different things as his ears rang and he could’ve sworn he heard Beverly shout…

And then he felt nothing at all as his vision dimmed to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [loud coughing]
> 
> Please don't kill me, but it only goes downhill from here.
> 
> ...Anyway, i forgot to give credit where credit was due, last chapter Will waking up with Beverly and thinking they slept together was the idea of a pal of mine on tumblr, so kudos to dr-hanniballectermd i believe. They are the literal chillest.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Abigail and Hannibal, with a little Marissa of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do like a two part thing for this, both of them in between finding out what happened to our darling Will and Beverly.  
> So basically it's a development between Abigail and Marissa and you learn Hannibal intends to fuck up all up.  
> Per usual.  
> Still unbeta'd.  
> SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES FOR LIKE THE 100TH TIME I FEEL REALLY BAD ABOUT THOSE.

_Two Days Previous_

 

Hannibal found having Abigail as a part of his home was comfortable. She wasn’t loud nor rude, and was perfectly willing to assist in keeping the home neat and organized. The only thing about the girl he’d wish he could change was her taste in acquaintances.

Marissa Schurr was everything Abigail wasn’t in the worst of ways. Abigail had asked if she could possible go out for a while with Marissa, and figuring Will would’ve been fine with such a thing, he made no objections or attempts to stop her, instead seeing it as a positive time to get things done.

Abigail and Will, from what Hannibal seemed to have pieced together, both were ones who needed somebody to lean on, although Will’s was more from birth, Abigail had developed her need over time. The pair were the type to easy be caught up in emotions, to not know what could possibly happen before it did and they were in too deep to once again escape.

It wouldn’t shock Hannibal is Will’s mind was in a ruckus over their relationship, having started so soon and been rather brief before they’d both ended up a bit deeper than what they meant.

Hannibal had been pondering over this for hours, aimlessly wandering about the house doing different chores- making the beds with fresh sheets, dusting his bookshelves, wiping down counters. Laundry was something that he was very touchy about- a cross between wanting to do something for Abigail and wanting to respect her privacy.

She had offered to do it as a way to give back, naturally, but Hannibal had insisted against it, because than _he_ would be the one having his privacy invaded. Besides, he didn’t want any odd questions about his wardrobe habits. They’d seemed to come to an agreement that Hannibal would was everything except her private articles, something she whole heartedly agreed with. Abigail and Hannibal were close, but not _that_ close.

 _And speaking of Abigail_. What was unmistakably the front door opened, and what appeared to be two sets of feet stepped inside. Hannibal was just about to slip quietly across the small hallway for a scalpel when he inhaled the scent of cigarette smoke and lavender from where he stood, followed by the murmuring of two distinctly feminine voices.

Hannibal relaxed his muscles, but not fully, either it was Abigail returning or the two most unintelligent burglars in history. It was obvious which of the options it was even before he made his way into his front room to see both Marissa and Abigail shedding shoes and jackets.

Abigail glanced up at him and smiled from unlacing her boots. “Hey Hannibal, I hope you don’t mind we’re back early, it was freezing outside.”

The pink of her cheeks confirmed what she’d said, as did the slight howling of wind in the distance, heard through his quiet home. Marissa turned to him and raised her eyebrows, obviously unaccustomed to dress such of his manor, a suit such a dark red it appeared black with a plum colored shirt and brown paisley tie. “Uh, hey.”

“Hello, Marissa I believed it was?” He said politely, offering his hand. She stared at it with furrowed brows before letting her eyes slowly crawl up to his face and giving him a sardonic, patronizing smirk.

“Right.” She said dragging the word out slightly and placing her gloves in his open palm and patting him sarcastically on the shoulder as she passed. An anger sharp and bitter ran through him with such a force that Hannibal could barely control the impulse of whipping around and breaking the girls neck. Hannibal inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and nearly resorting to counting to ten to calm himself. His eyes flicked open once again as Abigail gently took the rough wool gloves from his hand with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry about here, I promise she’ll leave you alone.” She said nervously. “I can even make her apologize to you if you’d like.”

Hannibal gave her a smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “It is not a problem, sweet Abigail, I am just not one for having pets in the house. Would the two of like some hot coca to warm your bones?”

Abigail’s mouth opened unintelligibly as he smiled politely down at her, obviously trying figure out if she’d actually heard what he’d said or not. Finally she shut her mouth, suppressing her stunned shock and nodded feverishly.

Hannibal tilted his head in acknowledgement, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze before turning briskly and heading back to the kitchen. He paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “And Abigail, be a dear and make sure to keep her away from my liquor cabinets.”

“Yes sir.” Abigail said quiet and almost shakily after him. Hannibal’s smile spread, unseen to her. He wondered what she’d seen in his eyes to have her so rattled- after dinner her first night, it was very distinct she was no fool to his ways. He wondered absentmindedly if she was scared for her friend or even herself.

Marissa Schurr on the other hand, well, something had to be done about her. And Hannibal was willing to be the one to step forward and whip her insignificant dirt off the map so as to clear the path for others, those better than she.

And so, as Hannibal Lecter does best, he concocted a scheme.

 

* * *

 

 

Marissa had found her way to the bottom of the stairs by the time Abigail had caught up. In the darkness of Hannibal’s subtle but elegant home, the windows heavy curtains had been pulled shut, although they’d never have let any light through that late at night anyway, making it so the the closest light was at the top of the stairs, sending shadows and bare yellow light down upon Marissa, making Abigail pause in the doorway to stare.

In this lighting, her dark hair was like mahogany, her dusky skin robust and beautiful as she turned her pretty face up to look up the railing, letting light catch along her eyelashes and the sharp line through her cheek where it defined the bone from the skin. One dainty-fingered hand rand down the base of the railing, over the sheen wood, and Abigail’s eyes traveled from that to the girl’s leg, one foot placed up on the bottom step, showing over the thin calves and shaped thighs.

Abigail’s fingers itched to wind her fingers into the girls’ dark hair, to taste those blush, slightly chapped lips and trail her thumbs across the warm cheeks. To feel her own breast brush with Marissa’s as she wined her in close and sampled her beauty-

_Snap out of it._

Abigail shook herself, reminding herself this was not the time to be caught up in feelings. Patting softly over to her friend, Abigail raised her eyebrows to Marissa, who turned expectantly to her. “About time you got here, what took you so long?”

“I have to excuse your behavior.” Abigail said, her tone laden with a cool edge. “What was that?”

Marissa shrugged, a pout on her lips. “A test. I mean, if he has to put up with your pop, he’s going to have to get used to grumpy people. Bedrooms up here right?” She said pointed up the stairs before starting up them, leaving Abigail to gape after her before also trotting up.

“What do you mean grumpy people? Will isn’t _that_ grumpy.” Abigail said, sliding quickly up beside Marissa to put herself up against the door she was about to open. “This one is Dr. Lecter’s, mine is down there.”

“Well let’s go in.” She said her, her voice just below a whisper, making Abigail strain to hear.

“What?” She hissed, grabbing onto Marissa’s hand as she went to open the antique bronze handle, their bodies positioned in such a way Marissa was practically nose to nose with Abigail and also gave her a clear look down the other girl’s shirt to her black lacy bra. Abigail quickly looked away and decided to respond before she made it weird. “No we can’t do that?”

“Why not?” Marissa said, her voice slightly patronizing. “Because he’s a _grown up?_ Because he’s an _adult?_ Parents go sneaking in kids’ rooms all the time.”

“He’s not my parent and I’m his guest- it would be rude.” She hissed. Marissa scoffed and rolled her eyes, finally leaving Abigail’s personal space, making the girl exhale a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“It’s this one.” Abigail said, grabbing Marissa by the wrist to ensure the girl wouldn’t run back and sneak into the room. Marissa seemed to know what she was doing and smirked, letting herself being dragged into Abigail’s room.

Marissa whistled, walking into the room, looking around. “You think he’d adopt me?”

Abigail laughed. “I think you made a bad first impression.”

Marissa turned slightly toward her, her brows pressed together and lips slightly puckered as she thought back. “Oh you mean-”

“When you said he wasn’t ‘that great’ in front of his boyfriend. Yeah. That.” Abigail said, a slow grin pressing her own face as she smiled at her friend who shrugged casually.

“Well, he’s no Matt Damon. Or Chris Hemsworth.” She said, shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing onto the bed before clambering on. Abigail followed suit, crossing her legs and sitting near the opposite corner while Marissa stretched herself across the bed so her back rested on the small mountain of pillows.

“You can’t really think of him that way though.” Abigail said pointedly, earning her a confused but interested look from Marissa.

“Oh yeah, how do _you_ look at him than?” She said in a curious challenge.

“You have to look at him _artistically_ -” She started, but Marissa snorted and looked up at the ceiling instead. “No, listen to me.” She said insistently. Marissa sighed loudly and rolled her head over to look at Abigail.

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“Imagine that the standard of male beauty nowadays wasn’t the way it was. Attractive for men now is considered stubble, chiseled jawlines and features, blue eyes and brown blond hair that’s windswept, not too long or short. Those flannel shirts and jeans you like.”

“Lumbersexual?” Marissa said with a sly grin and Abigail wrinkled her nose up. She hated that word. As she’d told Marissa before, it was like saying somebody was sexually attracted to different types of wood.

“Yes. That.” Abigail said distastefully before continuing. “The standard for male attractiveness is more ‘hot’ than beautiful, if this was back in the nineteen or even eighteen hundreds he would be a standard of male beauty. When the light hits his face, he has more deep set eyes, thinner lips, sharper cheekbones, he radiates elegance even if it isn’t purposely. His genetics come from a colder climate, which is why his lips are thinner-”

“All I hear are words. Give me something cement.”

Abigail sighed in agitation. “He’s hard to describe. A lot of these features would be considered beautiful on a woman- in reality he’s not only extremely proportionate, but he’s also aged fantastically. If you look at him like you would a figure in an old painting or sculpture, like a dancer barely lit from the shadows, a voice in the night, he is beautiful. Some people can’t see the artistic light to him and therefore think him unattractive to the eye. One thing for sure, he’s a face you won’t forget and will always stick out from the crowd.”

Marissa gave her an obliging nod before tossing her a sharp grin. “And the crooked teeth?”

Abigail opened her mouth before she let her head fall forward slightly and grinned down at her hands. “I think that’s more from the time area he was born in. I don’t think braces were a thing.”

“Sheesh, how old _is_ Mr. Artistic?” Marissa said somewhat dramatically, making Abigail grin wider.

“I’m not sure, but I believe he’s older than Will by three or four years.”

“So Will’s forty four,” Marissa said, raising a hand with four fingers. “Add about four years… Are you saying he might be forty nine?”

“Forty eight.”

“Are you sure he isn’t Will’s sugar daddy.” Marissa said with a stunned expression that made Abigail burst out laughing at the mere thought.

“No, no I’m serious. He’s loaded, it would make sense.” Marissa said, sitting up with a grin on her face and a devious look in her eyes. She was naturally doing this to make Abigail laugh, and it was working. The girl was practically choking.

Abigail flopped down beside Marissa, struggling for breath and Marissa smiled over at her. Their faces weren’t far apart, making it so every freckle was illuminated upon Abigail’s pale skin that was completely untouched by makeup, her short, dark lashes brushing lightly across her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut and heaved breath into her petite physic.

Marissa took her turn admiring Abigail. The dark hair not as dark as hers, the rosy cheeks and thin jawline. Abigail didn’t noticed much until she finally found her breathe properly, laying on her back with her face turned toward Marissa’s.

“You have nice eyes.” Marissa murmured slightly, a small smile playing her lips. “I’ve probably said that before.”

“At least one a year since we first met.” Abigail murmured back, a small smile of her own creeping her lips.

“We make quite a pair don’t we.” Marissa said with a giggle and Abigail grinned wider, watching Marissa’s happiness playing in the cool grey-teal fire of her eyes. If only she’d known how much of an impact those word had on Abigail.

Abigail shuffled her head, pressing it into Marissa’s shoulder comfortably. It reminded her of their younger years, the sleepovers in Abigail’s bedroom beside the glass sliding door leading out onto the deck. Sometimes they’d sneak through it during the night and stand just at the edge of the woods to stare at the stars.

Marissa turned her head, pressing her nose into Abigail’s hair. Abigail instantly knew they’d fall asleep like this as she shifted onto her side, gently placing her hand onto Marissa’s stomach, listening to the silence of the home. Had Hannibal left?

Abigail nearly jumped at Marissa’s arm curled under her and around her shoulders, reeling her in against her side in a way that made Abigail’s stomach flutter and nuzzle her way more into Marissa’s throat, barely resisting the urge to lay a kiss there.

Marissa’s breathing slowed, telling her the girl had been as drowsy as she. But Abigail wanted to enjoy every second of this intimacy, one she never predicted she’d have with the girl she loved.

Abigail loved Marissa Schurr. And with that thought, she smiled and dropped off to sleep herself.

 

* * *

 

 

It’d grown quiet upstairs Hannibal had noted.

It’d been a few hours, now brushing the edge of midnight. Hannibal needn’t go up to check on them to see if they were asleep, but he found himself doing so, leaving his copy of _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ on his coffee table.

Not long after they’d gone up, Hannibal had followed to ask how they’d preferred their hot chocolate, only to hear Abigail talking about him. He’d listened for a brief second, hearing enough to make him smile slightly and his day seem a little brighter, before deciding to leave them along.

Hannibal took a second to ponder if Abigail had made an advance on Marissa that had been successful and they were now up to something frivolous and attempting to keep silent. The thought nearly had him turning around and heading in the other direction. He’d never found the idea of walking in on two people intimate, whether men or women, ideal.

When he reached her door, he paused, thinking himself over, before tapping gently upon it. When nobody answered, he decided to try another approach. “Abigail, its Hannibal. Are you awake?”

No answer came, so gently, Hannibal turned the knob and placed his other hand against the door to push it open silently, taking on the slightest play of predator and letting a steady silence fall into his footsteps and actions.

On the bed, Abigail was curled into Marissa’s side, both deep asleep. One of the girl’s pale hands was on Marissa’s stomach, the shirt under it slightly pulled up so that part of her hand rest on warm skin. Her nose was pressed into the other girls’ neck. Marissa returned the favor with her nose in Abigail’s hair and an arm around her back.

It was a compromising, but very beautiful sight, and Hannibal felt almost an air of protectiveness and… _paternal_ instincts from the way Marissa held Abigail against her. The savage desire to destroy anything seducing and threatening.

Hannibal gently paced back out of the room and took all his self-control not to slam the door.

He was growing attached to Abigail. And he was growing attached to Will Graham.

Some dare say he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABIGAIL AND MARISSA BECOMING A LITTLE LESS UNREQUITED 
> 
> OKAY BUT APPARENTLY HANNIBAL GOES COMMANDO SO THAT'S WHAT I MEANT BY SAYING HIS LAUNDRY MIGHT BE A BIT STRANGER I'M STILL HYSTERICALLY LAUGHING OVER THIS AND HAVE BEEN SINCE I LEARNED
> 
> Y'know i was grating cheese the other day and the cheese broke because it's made of lies and sins and my hand kept going over the grater and took some skin strips off and now i'm in agony every time i move my hand and it's inspiring me to one day write a fic where Will helps Hannibal in the kitchen and ultimately fucks up somehow bc i think that'd be beautiful and there's never enough of those.
> 
> This chapter featuring; Hannibal not being able to handle the fact he's got the touchy-feelies for Will and that Abigail is getting attached to him as much as he is to her.
> 
> Anyway, chapter after next you will learn basically what happened to Will and Bev.  
> Let me just say, i've scratched one of my list, THREE MORE TO GO.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Abigail talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd. Still a quickly moving trainwreck.
> 
> In case this bugs you, i'll put a warning out for 'underage drinking'. (And an adult supply said alcohol to a minor, @Hannibal talk about bad behavior for a doctor)  
> Although i'm still foggy on Abigail's age, i'm pretty sure in America if you touch alcohol before you're twenty-two you'll burst into flames or something??

_The Day Of_

 

Abigail sat across from Hannibal Lecter, it’d been cold these last few days leading up to the fluffs of snow falling outside.

Fireplaces around the home- Abigail counted three in total but she suspected one in Doctor Lecter's room- had been lit and the heat turned up. Abigail had wondered if Hannibal had a extreme distaste of being cold, though the theory had all but proven itself in the layers he wore and the temperatures he lived in. Abigail was on the edge of overheating, but felt it respectful not to make the man uncomfortable in his own home over a little bit of temperature.

Even now as she sat in the comfortably lush leather chair, the back of her shirt felt uncomfortably itchy.

Hannibal and she had taken up these positions before. Abigail with her legs crossed and looking towards one of the tall, thin windows, the outside showing through an inch where the curtains where separated. Hannibal in his regular regal stance, fingers knitted in his lap or occasionally holding a glass of wine, his head cocked to the side and studying her. And they talked.

Tonight, Abigail spoke of nothing, holding the partially filled glass of wine she’d been offered- something Hannibal had done with the smallest of smiles and empty eyes. She’d agreed, enjoying the warmth the smooth red liquid gave her.

“Will Graham is your father.”

Abigail’s eyes flitted from the window onto Hannibal. Turning her head slightly, she tilted it and gazed at him for a few long moments. The lines by his eyes stood out from the slight curl at the corner of his mouth, the glittering challenge in the murky maroon depths of his irises is what prompted her to respond.

“Not exactly.” She said, spinning her wine around in its glass before sipping it, never breaking eye contact. Hannibal waited patiently, watching as she dragged out her continuation purposely. Finally, she sighed, holding onto the stem of the glass to steady it and placing its base on her thigh. “I’m adopted.”

“I never figured Will the type.” Hannibal said blandly, obviously implying he wouldn’t think of Will the type to suddenly get up one day and decide he wanted to adopt a random teenage girl off the system, or even foster a child. Abigail had to agree with Hannibal there.

“Have you ever heard of the Minnesota Shrike?” Abigail said calmly.

“I have.” Hannibal replied, his face giving away nothing. “His victims were all around your age and features were they not?”

Abigail paused, words on the tip of her tongue suddenly vanishing. Her stance slumped and she looked down, her hair shielding her for a mere moment before she looked back at Hannibal. “How long have you know?”

“That you are the daughter of Garrett Jacob Hobbs?” Hannibal said, the smile curling his lips was predatory, making Abigail shift uncomfortably. “It took me little time to piece it together.”

“So you knew who Will was as well?” Abigail said in a convicting manner, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Not at first. I had heard of a profiler consultant for the FBI who had a mind like no other and was chasing the Chesapeake Ripper as well as your father, but I hadn’t the idea it was him until the next Ripper victim appeared and as did his name in many articles.”

“Tattlecrime.” Abigail said bitterly and Hannibal inclined his head. “I suppose mentioning his empathy confirmed your theory.”

“Yes. Although it was confirmed mostly from Will’s characteristics and the vital information on him that Miss Lounds seems to have collected.”

Abigail snorted. “So you figured it out after you two started dating. This means you know what Will did to my father. To save me. ”

“Not in extreme detail.” Hannibal said in a manner that suggested he’d love to hear more. Abigail sighed, and resting her glass upon the short table beside her, she reached up to unravel her flowery scarf to show the thin, long scar running over her throat horizontally.

Hannibal’s eyes trailed over the puckered pale expense of skin before traveling up to the doe blue eyes that watched him judgmentally.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs ate his victims.” Hannibal sated simply, taking a sip of his wine.

“Yes, he did.” Abigail said simply, her eye contact unwavering with Hannibal’s. The silent mention of the first dinner and the following few passed through their gazes.

Abigail broken it first, looking away and back to the window. They sat in stale silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, just existing. Finally, Abigail took another, larger sip of her wine before speaking again.

“You’ll take care of Will won’t you?”

Hannibal cocked his head, but Abigail was still staring out the window. He knew very well what she meant. “To the best of my abilities.”

“Do better than you best.” She said, sipping from her glass. “He deserves to be happy.”

“Is this because he saved your life whilst nearly witnessing your death that you desire to have him a happier existence, or is it something more?”

“I think it’s both.” Abigail murmured, her tongue a little looser and her opinions a little clearer from her alcohol consumption. She could tell the dark liquid was expensive just from the faint scent of cinnamon and the smoothness over her tongue.

“And why is that?”

Abigail is silent for a long while before saying. “I think he was hurt somehow when he was younger.”

“Physically. And mentally.” She added as an afterthought.

“Have you yet to see any indications to point your assumptions to truth?” Hannibal said, changing which leg was crossed over which, placing him slightly on a leaned angle.

“There was one time.” Abigail said quietly, almost in contemplation. “I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth while he was in the shower. I figured the mirror was high enough that if he opened it and I didn’t look I wouldn’t see anything, or that I’d just be quick.”

Abigail gave a scoff of laughter, it was less for humor and more to press on a bruise that situation had obviously made on her. “It wasn’t long after I’d moved in. I barely understood everything about him and I forgot how quiet I was… I’ll just say when he turned off the shower and opened the curtain,” She sighed, finally looking to meet Hannibal in the eye. “He was scarred. Shockingly. A few things that you could get from the life in law enforcement, sure, but other things,”

Abigail shook her head. “I think he was abused.”

“That is a strong statement to make, Abigail.” Hannibal said, fingers twitching outwards for a second. A small give that made Abigail debate if he knew about it, but the raging fire behind his eyes caught her attention back. It was almost like he was mad. “Would you be ready to trespass into such areas of conversation with Will?”

Abigail gave a thin smile. “That’s probably why I haven’t mentioned it to him yet.” She said before taking another sip from her glass, steadily working herself down to the bottom of the bulb. She made a slight noise, parting her lips after swallowing. “I can see why you told me to keep Marissa away from your liquor cabinet. If the wine is this delectable I cannot imagine the others.”

Hannibal smiled with pride. Abigail actually found it somewhat adorable in a comfortably, friendly way that he took so much pleasure in his collections. “Have you always been curious about drinking, Abigail?”

“If you’re subtly asking if this is my first drink, technically no.” She said derisively, sipping her drink a little heavier this time. “I remember family barbeques, dad slipping me a sip or two from his horrible beers or mom letting me try some of her bargain bin white wine.”

Abigail’s mouth twisted into a small smile at the little scrunch on Hannibal’s nose and between his eyebrows, a clear sign of distaste. She could easily tell it wasn’t for the illegal minor drinking but for the cheap alcohol that she was a victim too.

“You know,” She said suddenly, staring down at the last dregs of her drink. “I’m actual slightly surprised you didn’t,” She cleared her throat, a rosy blush blooming over her neck and cheeks. “You didn’t know Will was scarred.” She rushed awkwardly.

Hannibal’s look was truly mischievous as he replied. “And why would that be Abigail?”

“Because, well you _are_ together, and I just thought,” Abigail caught the look on Hannibal’s face and scowled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Highly.” Hannibal replied, the smirk on his face was purely entertained. “If you’re implying I would have noticed if I have been intimate with Will, which if it comforts you I can assure you I have not yet, but-”

“Woah,” Abigail said with a sudden shaky laugh, raising a hand. “Too much information. I was just…”

“Just?” Hannibal said, watching as Abigail grew more and more uncomfortable. “Would you like to have a conversation about intimacy?”

“I think I might need another glass of wine if we continue on this conversation, Dr. Lecter.” Abigail murmured, eyes slightly glazed at the prospect of such a conversation.

“Have you thought about intimacy with your friend Marissa, Abigail?” The question was so sudden that Abigail choked on her next inhale, she was about to comment when her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, attracting both hers and Hannibal’s attention. Leaning herself off her seat to wrangle it from her back pocket, she noticed it was Marissa. Shooting Hannibal a somewhat apologetic look, she made a gesture with his head saying that it was wine.

Readjusting herself in her seat so as not to meet Hannibal’s knowing gaze and his unanswered question of which they both knew the answer, instead she answered. “Marissa?”

“Abby, hey, I’m going out to a party with a few friends, wanna join?” Abigail could hear the rumble of male voices and the high pitched laughter of a girl. Hannibal obviously must’ve heard the shrill noise as well from the littlest way his head twitched away from where Abigail sat. She grimaced.

“What kind of party?” She asked, biting the side of her thumbnail.

“Some house party- C’mon it’ll be fun and there’s _cute college guuuys_!” She sang the last part in a sing-songy voice.

“Marissa I don’t think-”

“Abby come on! You’re no fun ever since you moved in with Will. I swear that grumpy baby-faced bastard is sucking the life out of you!”

“ _Marissa_.” Abigail spluttered, but Marissa gave her no time to continue before cutting in.

“C’mon Abby, live a little.”

Abigail gave an irritated sigh. “Is there going to be alcohol?”         

Marissa gave a laugh that was made shrill over the phone, forcing Abigail to move it away from her ear lest she burst and eardrum. “Thinking about getting wasted Abby? Atta girl!”

“No, I’m thinking that if there is, somebody has to make sure _you_ don’t.” _Again._ Abigail spoke softly, but her words held a razor sharp edge to them. “Now answer the question.”

“Ugh fine. Yes, there is. Will you come now? I’ll even let you hold my hand and change my diapers.” There was a muffled noise and the sound of talking before Marissa returned. “Here, I’ll hang up and text you the address, It’s in Baltimore so I figured you shouldn’t have to travel far anyway. B-T-W, I’ll be ticked if you don’t show.”

Marissa didn’t really mean the last part and Abigail knew it, but she also knew if she didn’t go Marissa would get drunk and pass out somewhere and put herself at risk. Abigail made one more attempt at trying to change the girls’ mind about going but she barely had the first syllables out before Marissa was saying a cheery “Bye Bye SugarFly!” and hanging up. Abigail’s phone buzzed a second later.

“Is something the matter?” Hannibal said, watching Abigail push herself up and set her glass aside. He made no move to stand.

“Marissa is going to some house party and there’ll be beer.” Abigail said, rubbing her thumb and forefinger into her eyes. “And I’ve been shafted for babysitting duty.”

“Do you need me to drive you?” Hannibal asked, and if Abigail strained her thoughts and wasn’t just hearing things, she’d say he almost sounded concerned.

“I can get a cab easily.” Abigail said with a shrug and turning towards the direction to leave before pausing.

“Would you like me to pay the fare?” Hannibal asked instead and Abigail shook her head.

“No, it’s fine, thank you for offering. You’re alright with this though, aren’t you?”

“As long as you call me in the case of a dire situation, I am most fine with it.” Hannibal responding, moving to stand and following Abigail to the doorstep. She was in the middle of talking to the Baltimore cabby services when he slid her jacket off her rack and held it for her to slide her arms in. She did it one at a time, switching the phone from one ear to the other.

Abigail turned, hanging up, and paused, unsure of what to do. In a situation like this with Will, she’d give him a smile that he’d genuinely return, even occasionally hug him or give him a quick kiss on the side of his chin.

Abigail’s eyes wandered up the burgundy and bronze paisley tie Hannibal wore with his even darker burgundy suit with the faintest of pastel purple pinstripes, barely viewable to the eye. His shoulders were much broader than Wills’ and his height a few more inches. Abigail opted to give him an odd smile which he returned.

She stood out on the sidewalk in front of Hannibal’s castle of a home, hands tucked into her armpits as she waited. Darkness was descending quickly in the cold weather, making it so the tall surrounding houses stood like dark shadows around Abigail on these dark streets.

When the banana yellow taxi pulled up, Abigail climbed in, reading out the address. It was actually was nearly thirty five minutes from Hannibal’s home, and on the edge of a higher-class community. Abigail was glad for the part-time job she had at the record store in town as she pulled fifty dollars from her wallet when she was stopped in a street crowded by cars. She paid quickly and climbed out.

It was obvious which house was the one hosting the party, obviously one of the more wealthy kids’ parents had left town for a while, leaving him the house in a most stereotypical fashion. Abigail hugged onto herself as she heard the steady stream of music from the house. Walking up the long, short white steps to the home, she knocked, but after a few seconds figured nobody could hear over the music and slid inside.

It was just as she figured a house party would be, having never been to one, she was left with her imagine; some lived up to what she saw, other parts didn’t. Beer pong was set up on the coffee table, a bunch of guys and girls in various outfits and colors cheering and laughing, while people sat on couches, chatting and drinking from mugs and solo cups.

The lights in the house were dimmed, red holiday lights strung up all around giving the room a strange glow. Abigail turned to the first person she saw and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to Abigail with a frown, obviously a few years older than she, and looked her up and down. “Do I know you?”

“No, I’m looking for a friend, Marissa, have you see her?”

“No, sorry. Try out back.”

Abigail gave her a smile and a quick “thanks” before moving past her and down the hallway to where she presumed the backyard was. In the hall all the doors were shut, presumably locked so no wandering couples could get in, although Abigail nearly slammed into one who were kissing deeply with their hands out of sight. She quickly moved on.

Abigail came upon a kitchen where a girl was nervously folding empty chip bags and brushing crumbs off the counters. She looks uncomfortable in the party surroundings, and judging by her introverted demeanor, she was very likely brought against her Will. Abigail gave her a sympathetic look as she slid open the glass screen door and stepped outside.

A heat pool was open and tiki lights and candles lit the backyard where people drank, swam, and in the back area, danced. Marissa was a chronic party-goer, and Abigail knew how much the girl loved to dance, so she instantly went in that direction.

The ground was patio tiles with two outdoor couches along the edge. In the center, practically hidden by the dancing bodies, was a fire pit roaring with fiery life. A semi-popular pop song was playing loudly, making it hard to tell if Marissa would hear her calling out. Still she did it anyway.

The first few times were unsuccessful attempts, but finally out of nowhere Abigail spotted her pressed between a guy and another girl. Blushing pink and tapping her thumb consistently on her thigh, was walked forward and reached out to place a hand on Marissa’s shoulder.

“Abby, hey!” She called excitedly, peeling herself from the other two to hug Abigail. Marissa smelt of cheap wine and her favorite flowery perfume that hid the vague smell of sweat. Wrinkling up her nose as she pulled back, Abigail placed both hands on Marissa’s shoulder. “What have you drank?”

“This.” Marissa said, holding up a solo cup Abigail hadn’t noticed. She peered into it to see something that smelt like toilet cleaner as was the color of Mountain Dew.

“What even is that?” Abigail said, taking the cup from Marissa’s hand and passing it off to any strangers she saw nearby- who accepted it without even looking. Dragging Marissa from all the bodies over to one of the empty couches she sat down her down forcefully and stood over her with her hands on her hips.

“What were you thinking? You have no idea what it is. It could’ve been drugged.”

Marissa snorted. “But it _wasn’t._ And what is that?” Marissa said, waving in the direction of Abigail’s outfit; a white knit sweater that faded slowly into blue with a pair of dark jeans and boots. Her scarf matched her shirt in color and her jacket was her favorite brown one, wrapped tightly around her. “I told you it was a party, not church.”

“I was in a rush.” Abigail said, noticing that Marissa was dressed in her favorite lacy brown tank top without an undershirt, making it so you could see her black bra that matched her shorts.

“A rush to get to me you mean.” Marissa pouted. “I don’t need a babysitter you know.”

“Yeah,” Abigail said on a dry laugh. “You kind of do sometimes.”

Marissa was about to respond when instead she made a high pitched noise as a song both she and Abigail recognized came on. “I haven’t heard this in _forever_ Abby! C’mon, dance with me!”

“What? _No.”_ Abigail said as Marissa shot her some absolutely adorable puppy eyes.

“Please? What else are you going to do for a few hours until I want to go?”

“Hold on a few ho-” Abigail started but Marissa was already bounding from her seat and grabbing Abigail’s wrist and attempted to drag her along. Abigail managed to dig her heels into the edge of the patio. “No way, Marissa.”

Marissa huffed, putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes. Suddenly she bit her lip as a smile curled her lips. “Fine. You can do a strip tease and take all those layers off then.”

“What? _No_.” Abigail spluttered in absolute horror. Marissa was really something when tipsy and it was a whole new adventure every time. Abigail grimaced at her friend who seemed currently incapable of a bad mood. Instead, she shoved Abigail into a couch unceremoniously.

“Fine I’ll do it.”

“Marissa I don’t think-” Abigail started, but because incapable of any coherent words as Marissa started dancing on the patio in front of her, close enough to the others that is it was inconspicuous, but enough that she could successfully render Abigail into mush with one sway of her hips.

Moth opens uncertainly, Abigail watched her mouth the lyrics, an all-time favorite ‘ _Run Devil Run’_ by the pop singer ‘Ke$ha’. Having no choice in her mind but to sit and watch, Abigail was completely entranced by Marissa’s movements, lowering herself down slightly, winding and curling, hands in the air or running over her own body.

Abigail managed to snap herself out of her extremely obvious gaping to push herself up and grab Marissa by the arm. “I think you’ve had enough drinks for tonight, you should probably get to bed.”

Marissa, surprisingly, didn’t fight as she was dragged along behind Abigail and out to the front of the house. As Abigail called for a cab, Marissa slung an arm around her and leaned into her, pressing her nose in Abigail’s shoulder.

“The cab should be here soon. You didn’t bring your car, did you?”

“Nope.” Marissa murmured, suddenly sounding drowsy. Abigail looked over at her to see that her eyes were shut but her forehead wrinkled. “Have you been drinking too?”

“I had some wine, earlier. How could you tell?” Abigail confessed as she frowned.

“You smell kinda like it.” She murmured as the taxi pulled up. After loading herself and her friend in, Abigail read out Marissa’s home address and dug into her wallet for more cash. After a long car drive in the dark, they finally arrived and Abigail paid, climbing out and dragging Marissa with her.

Abigail pulled the spare key from beside a loose brick to unlock the door as she continued to drag her friend inside and up the staircase. They went into one of the four doors available and into Marissa’s room- when in daylight it was painted in cheery greens, browns, and purples, but in the dark the color went unnoticed.

Marissa kicked off her boots, her back to Abigail as she then stripped off her shirt, making Abigail’s mouth dry. “I’ll go get some Tylenol and water for you.”

“Hey, Abby, hold on a second.”

Abigail turned and suddenly Marissa was right in front of her. She hadn’t heard the other girl move or even approach, but there she was, barely inches from Abigail, her steely gaze flicking over Abigail’s features and back to her own doe blue eyes.

Abigail stood stalk still as Marissa raised one tan, long fingered hand and placed it over her cheek. Abigail moved unintentionally into the touch, never breaking her gaze from Marissa’s, lips part and heart beating fast. Abigail could just lean in, one little tilt, and their lips would touch.

Suddenly, Marissa moved back and smiled. “Thanks, Abby.”

Abigail nodded hurriedly and turned, practically dashing down the stairs and around the corner to pass through the living room and into the kitchen where practically spent her sweet time as she filled the plastic cup –plastic was safer idea than a glass right now- with tap water. It was easy to say she had it bad for Marissa, and at this rate it wasn’t going to be easy to hide for much longer.

She sighed, leaning her lower back into the counter and pressing her palm to her forehead. She needed to wrap this up and quick. Her feelings could ruin their entire friendship, causing them to drift apart of Marissa to instantly cut contact. In the end, Abigail sensed she was going to be heartbroken anyway.

Traipsing back upstairs, Abigail knocked lightly on the open door before entering. Marissa was already asleep, tossed unceremoniously upon her bed, half under her blankets with her face shoved into the cushion. With a sigh, Abigail put the medication and water down on the bedside cabinet and fixed the blankets so they lay warmly over her friend.

Abigail paused for a second, thinking herself over before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her friends’ temple.

As Abigail closed the door and locked it behind her, she began the slow walk down the street. Was she call Hannibal? She doubted she had enough for another taxi. She could go for a walk in the woods maybe, or simply sleep on a bench somewhere.

She shook her head, it’d be a bad idea and could possibly get Hannibal into trouble with Will, which just as their relationship was starting, would be a nasty action that could cause pressure.

Abigail sighed deeply, sliding her hand into her pocket to retrieve her phone.

What shocked her was when she looked at it, she’d three missed calls. Frowning, she unlocked the device and went into her logs. The first and most recent on the list was Jack Crawford’s personal number, under it was one that was unknown, and then the third was the oldest and appeared to be from Will.

Frowning, Abigail clicked on Jacks’ first. “Abigail, you need to pick up now, something’s happened. Doctor Lecter isn’t picking up either. Call me back as soon as possible.”

Abigail pulled the phone back, staring in confusion at it. What had happened that Jack sounded so… was it fear? Possibly. Abigail moved onto the second. This time it was a pre-recorded voice, confirming that she was Will’s emergency contact and asking her to press one to continue, which she did with shaking fingers. The voice continued to read out the location of the call- A hospital in Boston, where Will Graham was in intensive care.

Abigail was paralyzed, unable to hear as the voice continued before the call ended. The first message that was left and the last one was from Will’s phone. Abigail could barely work the touch screen as she tapped for the message to play. Returning the phone to her ear.

It was confusing, loud clattering as the phone was slammed against a surface, than and ear piercing sound and what had to be glass tinkling down accompanied by the dripping of what Abigail prayed was oil.  

The phone clattered from her hand and she stared down at it from where it sat on the concrete, the message continued in silence for another thirteen seconds before ending.

Abigail left out a choked noise, staring down at it. What the hell had happened?

Abigail didn’t even think as she dashed back to Marissa’s house, scrambling for the key and unlocking the door. Grabbing the closest pen and paper, she scribbled down a note she had to borrow Marissa’s car but she’d return it the next day, and grabbed the keys.

Abigail was thankful of the empty streets as she was sure she broke three different speed limits in her haste to get back to Hannibal. She scrambled for her own pockets this time to pull her wallet out. Hannibal had given her a temporary key.

When he finally managed to get it in the lock, she closed the door roughly behind her and ran all the way to the stairs and up them in the dark home, accidentally hitting walls and objects on her way, finally she reached Hannibal’s door and pulled it open, uncaring for his privacy.

It seemed either the ruckus had woken him or he’d yet to fall asleep because the minute she had he was sitting up. For the merest second he looked enraged, as if he might pounce onto her like an animal and tear her to pieces, but as he took a glance at her terrified and frenzied appearance, it seemed to die down.

He’d barely gotten, “Abigail? What has happened?”

Before Abigail was talking over him, eyes wide. “Something has happened to Will.”

Hannibal froze for the tiniest of seconds before pushing himself out of bed. Completely ignoring the fact he was dressed only in pajama bottoms, he approached her. “What do you know?”

“Jack called and- and a hospital called, he’s in intensive care…” She said, eyes completely lost. “Do you think he’s going to die? What if he already has and we’re too late-”

“Abigail,” Hannibal said gently, placing his hands upon her shoulders. “You need to relax. We cannot help Will if we are in a panic.” He said before drawing back and heading towards his closet.

“Call Jack Crawford back and get as much knowledge as you can about the situation, also take any essentials you need and pack them.”

“What are we going to do?” She said, watching him with curious but still scared eyes as he took one of his own smaller bags from its spot.

“We’re going to Boston, it appears.” He said calmly, and Abigail was about to ask how exactly they were doing that when she had to remind herself that not only she had a call to make, but also that this was Doctor Lecter she was speaking to, a man who wore suits worth more than her life and slept in a bedroom bigger than her old house.

Nodding, she scrambled from the room to collect her own things as she dialed Jack Crawford’s number in return.

Abigail had never been the religious type, but in this very moment, she suddenly saw the appeal of praying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude i had no idea that messages could do the 'press this button' thing until like three days ago. Cool beans.
> 
> Marissa is a nightmare and is unknowingly(?) driving Abigail insane.
> 
> Anyway, i feel like i should be a good person and say what happened to Beverly and Will. Will survives as you know, but well, Bev is something you guys will find out about.  
> RIP till the next chapter.
> 
> Try listening to 'Run Devil Run' by Ke$ha and you'll see why i chose it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Hannibal visit Will in the hospital while he deals with his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking cancelled Hannibal.  
> If they wanted the damned apocalypse they didn't have to do this.  
> Pray for Hulu of Netflix or even God to save us u guys.
> 
> Anyway, here's some rebound fanfiction in case you're reading this as a distraction. Amen here.
> 
> Unbeta'd and goin' strong.
> 
> Have a longer chapter as a sorry for late updates.

_Two Weeks After the Accident_

 

Will had woken up in a hospital before.

Every experience was unpleasant, even the ones where he wasn’t the one in the bed, rather holding the hand of the person who was. Everything from the slow, melodic beeping of the heart monitor filled the room that smelt of disinfectants and clean laundry made him want to gag.

His entire body felt like lead, his tongue swollen and dry in his mouth as he tried to figure out the physical state of his body. He could still feel his fingers, but he was strangely numb in his toes. Panic filled him, setting a new beat to the beat monitor as he tried to pry his eyes open despite their lack of use building a cry crust.

Will sucked in air hard, choking it back as he realized there was something in his throat. _Oh god how long have I been asleep?_ He thought in a panic and he fingers scrambled to grip whatever it was suffocating and yank it out, leaving his choking and rasping for air as he opened his eyes to blackness. _Something is over my eyes, what’s over my eyes. Get it off. Off._

He felt strange hands on him as his shaking fingers attempted to pull off whatever was over his eyes and attempted to rip away from them, finally his brain seemed to process coherent words in order to hear what must’ve been a nurse speaking to him in a calming voice. “Sir- _sir,_ you’ve been in a coma and I need you to calm down.”

 “ _Ho-How_ -” Will choked once he’d stopped fighting, his limbs shaking from unused as he hunched forward, the nurse keeping one hand on his back and the other on his shoulder in case he fainted. His scrambled effort for vocal use was instantly and quickly cut off.

“Don’t talk. Your esophagus has received some damage and you pulling the ventilator out didn’t help. It’s healing well, but you can’t speak for a while as a precaution.”

“As for what happened,” She continued with a sigh as if she could tell what he was really getting at. “You were in an accident. From what I’ve read you receive a face full of dash board on an angle, which caused an orbital blowout fracture on your right and left eye, although the left eye is significantly worse than your right, but we still needed to do reconstructive surgery on your upper cheekbone and brow bone for your left eye. You also have a severe hyphemas in that eye which is healing without any sign of a glaucoma but might cause some sight damage. All of these things will heal successfully over time.”

  _Reconstructive surgery?_ Will thought painfully. _Why the fuck wasn’t I swearing a seatbelt._ But the nurse wasn’t finished, and Will’s slowly moving drugged mind hurried to catch up. “…The bones in your right leg as I said, have varying fractures and small breaks but nothing some rest and physical therapy won’t heal. You’ll probably have a slight limp though. You also have multiple bruised ribs on both sides of your ribcage, two broken as well as one cracked, numerous bruises, and tissue damage. It appears most damaged happened to your lower right side and your upper left.”

_By upper you mean my entire fucking face._ Will thought sarcastically before scowling at himself for acting like an ass even if the nurse didn’t know, and expression which he quickly stopped because it made his entire face throb. Only _then_ did he remember about Beverly. With new panic setting in, he attempted to get out of his bed again again, only to be pushed back into his place against the pillows by the nurse.

“Mr. Graham do I need to call reinforcement?” She said strictly, and although Will couldn’t see her face, he knew she was probably giving him a stern look and was willing drug him and strap him down if she had too.

_Let them try._ Will thought aggressively, his new found feeling of uselessness was making him impractical and angry. Instead he tried to ask, but even then it sounded choppy and horrible,“ _B- Bev- ly?_ ”

Will heard the sound of a clipboard that could possibly be his being out back into place, the shuffles of paper, before the nurse asked slowly. “Are you asking about one Miss Beverly Katz who arrived with you?”

_Who else would I be talking about? Did some_ other _girl with the name Beverly come in with me._ Stifling his impatient aggression _,_ Will attempted at nodding but it hurt his head, so instead made a slight noise and waited with baited breath. Finally, when the nurse spoke it was with a solemn sigh. “She’s not dead _bodily_. She’s been transferred to the same Baltimore hospital that you would’ve been transferred to if you hadn’t woken up by tomorrow and is currently on life support but-“

Will Graham’s entire world blurred as he made a choked noise. Beverly was on life support. It only meant one thing. Will thought back to the accident, to the car ramming theirs into the wall. It was shocking he didn’t receive more damage, but Beverly- Beverly had been at the angle that when the car was slammed against the wall, so had she, leaving Will to imagine that whatever injuries she sustained, she lucky she wasn’t awake to feel them.

“W- ake u-?” He managed to strangle out pathetically, having completely ignored everything else the nurse had said previously. He knew full well what life support meant, but be damned if he wasn’t going to hope till his last second breathing air.

 “Mr. Graham,” She started but seemed to stop. It was a horrible thing to lie, while Will Graham lay there, unseeing and in agony both emotionally and physically, wrapped in bandages and on enough morphine to sedate an elephant. The truth was best to get done and over with. “Our hospital only has some details for the time she was here, for full information you will have to contact the Baltimore residence, but it’s extremely unlikely. Although we cannot predict the future. I’m sorry.”

Will’s world shattered around him as he went completely limp onto the pillows behind him and stared at his own closed eyelids. The nurse was talking- something about needing to put him back to sleep for a while so that she could reset the ventilator. Will didn’t care, his brain seemed to have shut down all thought except for one.

Beverly wouldn’t wake up.

That one thought tore into him more than any of the metal or glass hand. A void had been opening inside of Will’s chest, filling him with an emptiness that would never be filled.

_Everything in my life is happening so fast._

Will thought back over every last detail of their chase, every painfully obvious mistake they’d made. The killer had wanted one last victim; one last _show,_ and who better than two FBI agents who think they’re protected in their vehicle when they were most definitely not.

_Idiots. Fucking idiots._

Will wanted some time away. He wanted the world to pause around him so he could sleep for days without worry, so he could eat and read and just catch up to everyone. He wanted to understand his rapidly evolving feelings. He wanted to understand what his life would be like now.

But instead he was given the prick of a needle and the sudden whirling sound of his morphine machine, and the darkness swallowing him whole.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Will felt when he woke up was peace, utter, clear peace.

Until his entire life came crashing down upon him once again, making him wonder if every day was going to become like this, mere seconds of peace before agony came ripping back into him. It made him wonder how long he could stand it before he took his life into his own hands as a means of escape. He doubted this was just something you’d leave behind if you moved away. No amount of countries or homes would erase this feeling from him.

Will didn’t bother opening his eyes, not only would it hurt but he’d see nothing anyway. As the nurse had said, it seemed more damage had been done to the right eye, making even the slightest move of a lash caused an uncomfortable stinging twinge of pain.

He tried to swallow, but his throat was intruded upon by the very same plastic tube he’d yanked out, making his mouth dry and his tongue heavy. Making a slight groan, he stretched, his back arching slightly as he rolled his shoulders lightly, shifted his arms, and wiggled his fingers…

It was only then that Will realized somebody was holding those fingers to his left. In fact an entire warm, large hand was curled around his, with the pads of slender fingers pressed into his palm ever so slightly so as he could feel their slim callouses that mirrored those upon the palm of the same hand, which was pressed against the top of Will’s.

Will turned his head ever so slightly, twitching his fingers. Judging by the low, steady breathing he could hear around his and the beeping of his heart monitor – which had picked up a beat once he’d realized somebody was holding his hand – he could judge whoever owned the comforting hand was asleep.

It was definitely masculine, and the long fingers seemed to have an unexplainable elegance to them, like a dancer or a musician. Will’s frown deepened- there was only one person these could belong to but Hannibal wasn’t here.

He suddenly wished he could open his eyes, to witness what _had_ to be Hannibal, slumped without defenses so precariously placed, his chin against his chest as it slowly rises and falls. Will feels the first thing closest to a smile he’s had curl his face.

Gently, so as not to wake the other man, he turned his hand over so that it was palm to palm with Lecter’s. He felt as if the warmth radiating from it spread through his cold limbs, seeping into his bones and warming his insides that felt dead and decayed.

Will curled his fingers upwards slightly, reveling in the twist of his arm that caused small stings of pain. There was probably an easier way to hold it, but it didn’t matter.

Will’s heart dropped quicker than his smile when he once again heard the whirl of the morphine. Squeezing Hannibal’s hand once more, he let himself slip back into the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

“How long has he been like this?”

The accident happened two and a half weeks ago Abigail, your Will has sustained many injures that are making his body require lots of rest to heal them.”

Will listened to the quiet conversation, his thoughts all but nonexistent. He felt loopy, like he’d just woken up somewhere exotic, with clear waters and a rushing waterfall that would spew the scent of sage and another unknown scent over his senses.

Shifting his head slightly, Will wanted to open his eyes, but he knew he wouldn’t see anything anyway. Hannibal’s hand was no longer holding his, the two voices at the end of his bed instead.

“He looks horrible.” Abigail’s voice was hushed, making Will wonder about what a sight he must’ve been. It was very likely a terrible one, but then again he’d never been a great thing to look at seeing as he spent his time looking like he’d just crawled out of a dumpster

Will wanted to snort at the ironic tone of it all. He knew he’d be horribly scarred. The reconstructive surgery was enough of a confirmation for him.

“What happened to his eyes?” Abigail said, and he could hear her clothes rustling as she shifted forward the tinniest of bits, obviously leaning forward in an attempt to see through the thick cotton covering them. “He hasn’t gone blind, has he?”

“No,” Hannibal said, his warm, deep purr of a voice was reassuring. Will could almost imagine the man placing a hand upon Abigail’s shoulder and meeting her warm blue eyes as they met his maroon ones. “He has sustained damage to both eyes and Will have to keep them covered for a time, that is all.”

Abigail was silent for a while, and when she spoke again, the crack in her voice drove a sharp spike of pain through his already hurting heart. “What happened to him?”

It was a quiet question, and it was one to go unanswered, one she was asking to the room at large, to herself, to the entire hospital even. It had a much deeper meaning.

Will decided it was time to stop pretending, and with all the strength in the world, Will shifted his hand from beside him and up onto his stomach before raising it slightly in her direction, spreading his fingers out slightly. He managed to make a strangled little noise around the tube shoved down his throat.

“Will? Can you hear me?” Abigail said, rushing around the bed to grab his hand in her own two.

“It appears he has awaken.” Hannibal said, and the smile was evident in his voice as he stayed in his place at the end of the bed.

“I would ask you how you’re doing but…” Abigail trailed off with a quiet nose, sliding herself onto the edge of Will’s bed, nearly making him jump at the sudden dip of the mattress. “I don’t think that would be very funny.”

Will heard the sadness in her voice, the unnecessary guilt. He wanted to comfort her, to sit up and pull her to her side in a form of trust it’d taken a year for her to trust him enough, and right now he wanted her to know that it wasn’t broken, that he was there for her and she needn’t cry over him.

But all he could do was squeeze her hand and turn his face in her direction, which he did.

“I know there isn’t much you can do right now,” she said, taking a deep breath of air to calm herself. “And there’s not much we can do for you. But I want you to know I’ll be here- _we’ll_ be here on your road to recovery. Every step.”

_We._ Such a strong word for Abigail to say, referring to Hannibal and herself in such a manor. Will didn’t know if she realized it or not, but her action in saying they’d both be there for him, they’d both be supporting him every step of the way, was a promise, one she very likely did not discuss with Hannibal before making to Will, who’d just unnoticed that she promised to Will that Hannibal would also commit time to him to help him.

Will, unable to say anything, attempted to smile, but all it was a grim turning of lips hidden under wiring and tubing. As if Hannibal had read his mind, he spoke up. “Your breathing assistance should be removed tomorrow. Abigail and I will surely return here for it.”

Hannibal approached this time with the slight tapping of his shoes upon the floor, and Will felt the mans’ fingers trail gently over his head, brushing damp curls back from his face. “I can assure you, Will, that we will discuss things then.”

Will gently turned his head, not to throw Hannibal off, but to lean into the touch.  “We’ll let your rest now, Will.”

Abigail whispered a hurried goodbye, before following after Hannibal, leaving Will alone with only his thoughts and empty heart.

 

* * *

 

 

Hannibal and Abigail were indeed there when the ventilator was removed from Will, although it was done while he wasn’t conscious, they stood by and watched, Abigail biting her lip till the skin turned white as Will’s body arched slightly as they gently pulled the tube from his throat.

They were warned he may still have a problem with proper speak and breathing for a bit, but as long as he wasn’t over excited he would be fine. Hannibal had agreed and closed the door behind them before taking a seat at the couch opposite the bed while Abigail took up the uncomfortable seat beside Will.

The silence was thick, Hannibal had set a book on his lap to wait for Will to awaken. The only noise in the room had been the slow beeping of Will’s heart monitor and the flips of Hannibal’s book pages. Suddenly, Abigail speaks up.

“What are you reading?” She does not to turn away from Will as she asks, nor does Hannibal look up when he answers.

“ _The Picture of Dorian Grey.”_ He responded, dampening his thumb before turning the page onto the next chapter.

“Would you read some to me? To us?”

Hannibal looked up, Abigail still faced away, and her dark hair was all he saw was her posture, simple, hidden. He didn’t say anything, didn’t answer, instead he took a breath and returned his gaze to the slightly yellowed page and began to read aloud.

" _The next day he did not leave the house, and, indeed, spent most of the time in his own room, sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself. The consciousness of being hunted, snared, tracked down, had begun to dominate him. If the tapestry did but tremble in the wind, he shook. The dead leaves that were blown against the leaded panes seemed to him like his own wasted resolutions and wild regrets. When he closed his eyes, he saw again the sailor's face peering through the mist-stained glass, and horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart_.”

There was a hitch in Will’s heart monitor, making both Abigail and Hannibal’s eyes flick up to Will, who still remained in a seemingly peaceful slumber. While Abigail was fooled, Hannibal instantly noticed the change upon Will’s figure. The man was very awake, but Hannibal continued anyways.

_“But perhaps it had been only his fancy that had called vengeance out of the night and set the hideous shapes of punishment before him. Actual life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the imagination. It was the imagination that set remorse to dog the feet of sin. It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen brood. In the common world of fact the wicked were not punished, nor the good rewarded. Success was given to the strong, failure thrust upon the weak.”_

“ _The picture of Dorian Grey_.” It was Will’s low grumble that made the other two look up. Although Will could see them from under the layer of medical tapes and protective cotton, Abigail and Hannibal could see the small smile that curved his lips at the thought of surprising them.

It worked wholly on Abigail, who was instantly clutching his hand and gave a surprised laugh of delight.

Hannibal laid his jacket and literature to the side, taking his stand, he moved around to the other side of the bed from Abigail. Gently tucking his hands into his pockets, he smiled down at the man who could not see him in return. “You have read it?”

“Yes, although it was in my beat cop days, so I don’t think that counts.” Will’s voice was choked and dry, obviously from the stress on his esophagus that kept the ventilator in sue so steadily. Hannibal wondered vaguely if it was permanent.

“How so?” He asked, cocking his head. Will attempted at what either had to be a snort of a laugh but instead lead to a coughing fit, Abigail set one pale hand upon his hunched shoulders until he’d gotten it out of his system. Leaning back against his pillows once more, he groaned slightly. “Sorry.”

“Do not be sorry from something you cannot control, Will. You have been in an accident and you are healing, it is perfectly understandable seeing as it has put you in a vulnerable state.” Hannibal said, gently picking up a hardwood chair from the corner of the room and placing it beside the bed, figuring it best not to let it scrape upon the ground and injure Wills’ presumably damaged eardrums as well.

“I’m not vulnerable.” He grumbled sullenly, suddenly sounding exactly like his old self. Abigail grinned over at Hannibal who smiled back. It was a point for the team, even if Will seemed to slide back into his previous depressed mood.

“Have they let you up yet?” Abigail asked, tracing patterns upon Will’s arm with the hand that wasn’t holding his, every now and then stopping to gently tug when she found a particularly long hair there. Something about it seemed so natural that Hannibal predicted it was an action repeated from before. “Even in just a wheelchair?”

“No.” Will murmured. “Not for a while I believe.”

Suddenly, Will turned his face towards Abigail and gave her a cheap smile. “Would you mind getting me something to drink?”

“Not at all. “ Abigail said with a smile and squeezed Wills’ hand reassuringly before slipping away. Giving Hannibal a knowing smile, she slid from the room gently. Hannibal figured it’d be a little longer for her to return.

“How ‘as she been?” It is Will who makes the first effort at conversation, turning his head towards Hannibal so the man could have a full view of his bandaged face. On the right side, part of his cheek was also covered, as well as tape holding his nose into place. A slight scowl turned over Hannibal’s lips at the thought of how injuries such of these would be placed.

“She’s been well behaved.” Hannibal said, leaving his seat momentarily to get a bottle of water from his shoulder bag. It was further proof that Abigail was probably just talking a walk and leaving them to their devices for a while. Opening the top he pressed the ledge to Will’s lips and murmured, “Drink.”

Will did, slow and easy as Hannibal kept the bottle levelled for him before setting it aside. Will smiled slightly, obviously thinking about Abigail having gone to ‘fetch water’ when she very well knew they had a bottle.

“No problems with Marissa?” Will asked instead, he voice a little quieter, practically sheepish. Hannibal had to presume that Marissa’s utter filth for a personality must be something Will was used to by this time, and he never seemed the type to stop a friendship over something so _minimal_.

Hannibal sighed quite audibly and Will made a slight nose. “I figured. I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you- Hell, I should’ve not dumped her with you I’m so sorr-”

“Will.” Hannibal said patiently, interrupted the man’s tirade. “It was not problem at all. Abigail is quite pleasant to be around, I can see why you adopted her.”

Will was silent, debating what Hannibal said as the man waited patiently. Finally, Will spoke. “You know don’t you?”

It was quiet, less of a question seeing as they both knew the answer. “I do not judge you for it, Will.”

“I killed a man, Hannibal.” Will said, voice suddenly choked. “How can that not bother you?”

“I was once a surgeon, before my life as a physiatrist began. I had lost many people on table whom I could not have saved, the first of which a child whilst I was still a young man. I understand what you are feeling Will, having had it happen to myself and having also treated patients like yourself.”

“Are you saying this is textbook?” Will all but snapped. “Textbook of me to adopt the daughter of the man I put an entire clip of bullets into, for me to have held her neck to stop the bleeding from her own father slicing it? Still feeling the mans’ _anger_ and smugness even to this day when his own daughter sleeps across the hall from my own room and says she forgives me when she never could? Is this textbook, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal sat in silence after Will’s angry rampage, letting the man calm himself down. Will only seemed to notice that his heart monitor was beeping at a surprisingly quick rate and took a deep breath. Hannibal sat quietly until it was slow once more.

“I’m sorry Hannibal, I’m not usually like this.” Will reasoned weakly, attempting a smile that didn’t cooperate with his face. “I shouldn’t have said that. I usually don’t say things like that-”

“Will it is alright, I have taken no offence. May I remind you that you are also currently on a large doses of painkillers and such medicines Will loosen the tongue.” Hannibal said softly, reaching out to brush some of the stray curls from Will’s forehead.

“I must look as half as good as I feel.” Will said in a weak attempt at humor. “Real lady killer.”

Hannibal continued brushing Will’s hair back, even once it was away from his face, running his long fingers through it like a comb to pull out tangles and small mats of blood that the nurses hadn’t gotten with their hand cloths. Will was in desperate need of a shower and shave, but his chances of getting one within the next few weeks were low.

“Will, I can assure you your appearance does not matter to me nor Abigail.” Hannibal said as he continued to stroke his fingers over Will’s scalp. Will every now and then tilted into the touch and made an appreciative noise.

“What do you know of your friend Mrs. Katz Will?” Hannibal asked conversationally. The only news he’d received was a begrudging and relieved look from one Jack Crawford, and man who worked Will with an iron fist, who’d met them at the hospital lobby once they’d thrown their bags into their hotel room.

Well, in Abigail’s case at least she’d thrown them. Hannibal had set his down not a moment too soon before she’d began impatiently tapping her foot and heaving small breathy noises. Once they’d arrived, Jack met them in time to physically stop Abigail from running to operation to see Will. She’d all but trampled the man in the process.

Abigail had stood next to Hannibal, shaking and pale as Crawford relayed the details. They’d been commed by Will and Beverly’s vehicle less than fifteen minutes before the signal of the device was dropped in a standstill location. Having dispatch already on their way, it took nearly another twenty minutes to find the accident in a secluded alley street, the entire right side had been crushed inwards by a large black Sedan.

From what Hannibal had been informed, that was the side Will had been sitting on, While Ms. Katz had been on the left- The side of the car that had collided extremely hard and fast into the brick wall beside it.

Will tensed instantly, a sharp blip spiking from the heart monitor as his mind registered the name. Will’s adams apple bobbled slightly as he swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about her Hannibal.”

_Bad news then._ Instead, Hannibal simply nodded before reminding himself Will could not see. “Of course Will. A topic for another time.”

“We caught the Calling Card.” It was a sudden switch of topic, but it made Hannibal pause, his own heart skipping a beat. “He survived crashing his car into ours.” The words were bitter, almost as if Will wished the killer hadn’t- a new show in development? Or simply the pain of loss he felt for Ms. Katz.

 “An unfortunate action indeed.” Hannibal said, still massaging his fingers into Will’s scalp, a calming gesture.

“What one, his survival or the accident itself?” Will murmured, leaning into Hannibal’s touch so as his throat was exposed to open air. Hannibal let his eyes wander over the pale skin there, noticing dully on the opposite side as a swash of purplish yellow brushing that was a temptation on all its own, making his fingers itch to reach out and brush them over the markings.

“Both.” Hannibal murmured in reply, sliding from his seat and onto the edge of Will’s bed. Neither of them mentioned it, but Will did raise a hand to trace lines upon Hannibal’s thigh lightly.

Will is silent for a second before he quietly spoke up, barely above a whisper his tone was shy and he said. “You know my lips aren’t covered.”

A slow smile crept across Hannibal’s face. “Indeed they aren’t.”

“I think you should kiss me better.” Will said, definitely flirting. Hannibal was sure that Will was one of very few men alive who could possibly do such a thing whilst completely buried beneath blankets, bandages, and pain medication.

“Do you really?” Hannibal murmured back tauntingly, moving in a bit more so he and Will’s lips were a bit closer, enough that Will could feel the heat of Hannibal’s breath even if he could not see him. “Because I believe the doctor said that your esophagus has been under stain and I wouldn’t want to cause more damage by blocking your oxygen intake, now would it?”

“Well, you are a Doctor as well, aren’t you _Dr. Lecter?”_ Will said, grinning despite the little space between his and Hannibal’s faces now. Even a he said it, Hannibal gently laid a palm against Will’s cheek as he pressed his forehead against his. “What do you prescribe is best?”

“I believe that kisses that heal a multitude of things if you believe in it.” He murmured in reply before pressing his lips to Will’s. The heart monitor blipped sharply beside them both as Will raised his arm slowly but steadily to place onto Hannibal’s shoulder.

It was a simple kiss, nothing complex, just the heated sensation of Will’s lips against Hannibal’s own. Will made the slightest of noses as they broke apart, nipping Hannibal’s lower lip gently as they did. They both smiled upon each other, keeping their foreheads pressed. Will didn’t have to see Hannibal to know that the glimmer in his eye spoke more than the sweetness of the kiss they had, and neither did Hannibal.

“Abigail is taking pretty long to get that water.” Will murmured, biting his own lip in a way that made Hannibal want to kiss him again. He did, a gentle peck upon Will’s lips, then upon his bandaged eyes and cheek, before placing one upon his knuckles.

“Perhaps she knows we’d be up to no good.” Hannibal said seriously, lacing his fingers between Will’s as he once again shuffled into his uncomfortable chair.

Will snorted successfully. “Us? What no good could an FBI Agent and a Doctor get into?”

“I can assure you many scenarios come to mind.” Hannibal said, a devious glint in his eye. Will’s grin was natural and wide this time as he squeezed Hannibal’s hand. There was once again a jump in the heart monitor at Hannibal’s double ended words.

“Don’t tell me _you’re_ kinky, Doctor.” Will said, just as devious. “It’s always the normal ones.”

“You are seemingly normal to the eyes Will, does this mean you have an interest all of its own in the bedroom.” Hannibal said, head cocked. He couldn’t help but glance at the heart monitor, which picked up an all new beat as a blush appeared in Will’s neck and cheeks. His fingers fidgeted slightly in Hannibal’s grip.

“I think,” Will said with a slight sigh. “This is not the conversation to have in a hospital ward when somebody could walk in upon it at any given second.”

“I, unfortunately, agree.” Hannibal said, crossing one leg over the other while he continued to hold onto Will’s warn hand. “Although, your heart monitor gives away all that is needed to know.”

Will emitted an embarrassed groan that was choked with a laugh. “You ruin me, Doctor Lecter.”

“I simply return the favor.” He rebutted, making Will snort.

“I doubt anything could ruin you.” Will said dryly.

“Quite the contrary.” Hannibal said, bringing Will’s hand up to his lips to deliver one more kiss upon his knuckles. “I believe you successfully have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U GUYS WERE SO WORRIED ABOUT MARISSA AND ABIGAIL  
> I NEVER SAID I WOULDN'T HURT BEVERLY  
> You'll learn more about what has happened to her, but i'm afraid she's been scratched off my hit list.  
> Three more to go.
> 
> BTW, i received some great comments throughout this fic and i just can't thank you all enough for bein' little angels of the lord amen
> 
>  
> 
> So what happened with Will's injuries;  
> He was not only without a seatbelt, but at the time of the collision, he'd just barely turned to Beverly when impact was made, so what happened was his face went on an angle into the dash, first his left then his right, it's also why his lower body had more injuries on the right from initial impact, acting all them pretty fractures and breaks and whatnot. Anyway, with the injuries to his eyes, honestly, google it because no only is it ugly to look at and read about, but it's actually important to know.  
> With the injuries he sustained he should heal somewhat okay. but the bones in his face needing reconstruction will cause differences in his face.  
> Don't worry, Hannibal still finds him beautiful. 
> 
>  
> 
> BTW, NEVER EVER pull out a ventilator like that it's a fucking stupid ass move kk bye.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will faces his new face. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be the first to say it; i literally broke Will's face. Like i broke it. No joke. Smashy Smashy now has to be fixed. Kind of. The best they can do i guess.
> 
> Unbeta'd.  
> I'M SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES OH GOD

Abigail and Hannibal are there when the bandages are removed from Will’s eyes.

Although it was done prematurely, Will much preferred it that way. Even when they had to keep the lights dimmed so as not to instantly burn his sensitive eyes. They’d decided a re-introduction to light was best done slow.

When the cotton layers and white tape fell away, leaving an almost strangely naked feeling upon the spots they covered, his eyes flitted open, taking a few minutes to come into focus in the semi dark room that still felt bright, which caused him to squint. The first thing he’d been able to see once recovering slightly from the onslaught upon his pupils was the two figures standing at the end of his bed, Abigail nervously biting on her lip and Hannibal impeccable as ever, both of them a sight for sore eyes. Literally.

As Will’s burning eyes traveled over to Abigail, her eyes had widened a fraction, lips parting as she looked up at Hannibal with an unexplained emotion playing across her features. Will dully noticed his left eyes was more blurry and he had a hard time keeping it focused, no doubt a side effect of the hyphemas.

He turned his attention as well as confusion onto the nurse, knowing full well from Hannibal’s composed shell he would get no reaction audible in the smooth features. The nurse inhaled slightly and took a step back, a forced smile upon her face. “Well, the damage isn’t too bad and it appears our surgery helped progress your healing.”

“Can I see?” Will asked, voice still hoarse although he was starting to think that was a new permanent charm, kudos to his accident. The nurse turned to Hannibal and Abigail, mouth still opened slightly and unsure how to answer, further confusing and upsetting Will. What had happened that made the three not want to speak up.

Hannibal took charge swiftly, whilst tilting his head forward, a crease appeared between his brows as he spoke to down to the confused man, whom of which Abigail seemed to be very steadily avoiding to look at. “It can been seen as unwise to do so at such a time as now, Will.” He advised, making Will scowl, something that made his skin stretch at an uncomfortable angle. What the hell had happened to him?

“What do you mean by ‘A time such as now’.” Will said, looking at the nurse again, who’d turn to throw out the bandaging’s.

“Mr. Graham, I’m going to advise you try not to speak or make any extreme facial movements until the stitches have been removed.” The nurse said in the false cheery tone that was grating upon Wills’ ears as she pulled a small rolling trolley with a metal top towards her and open one of the little containers on the top before dipping a spongey triangle into it. “I’m just going to add some salve to these so as they don’t get infected now that they’re exposed, I’m also going to have to check your pupil reaction.”

Will made a slightly frustrated, noncommittal noise as he sat still, slightly hunched forward as the nurse began to dab at his cheek, whatever the salve was, it was cool and stung slightly. Abigail cleared her throat awkwardly and Will flicked her eyes up to hers, which she quickly detached. “So, how’s your sight? Your peepers working okay?” she said teasingly, or what could be call an attempt at it. Will wanted to smile but found he couldn’t without hurting himself

“Left eye is a bit jerky which is to be expected.” The nurse cut in suddenly, answering for him. “Blurriness, pupil disorientation, occasional blindness on certain angles.”

“It does look…” Abigail trailed off before finding the word. “Paler.”

“It’s a filmy layer that has built while healing, that’s all, nothing that will cause any problems. He’ll be just fine.” The nurse said, smiling at Abigail. Will scowled. “I’m right here you know.”

“We know, we’re just worried.” Abigail said, still uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Will’s frown deepened. He’d had enough of the gentle probing around the matter so he decided to get straight to the point.

“It’s my face.” He said blankly, staring down at his knees under the blanket. “Something is wrong with it.”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it, it’s just-” Abigail started quickly and apologetically, but Will cut her off.

“Let me see.” It was a quest demand, not a question nor request. Abigail glanced at Hannibal quickly, who nodded slightly before she took out her phone, after tapping on a few things on screen, she handed it to him, the camera app opened so as he’d have a view of himself.

The phone nearly slid from his grip whilst at the same time he was practically crushing it. The man staring back in the reflection was what had to be him but couldn’t be. Lifting his other hand to his nose where a few bandages remained, it confirmed to him what he already knew.

The rings around his eyes had faded from the angry purplish red to a solemn pinkish yellow that made his soft eyes look sickish. Abigail had been right about the strange film over the left eye, but even then there was a lot worse to look at; the a thin stitching along the bottom of his right eye, winding its way to the corner of his eye where is abruptly stopped, unlike the left eye which had been much less fortunate with both the upper and lower eye palate stitched, traveling a bit higher and wider.

The reconstructing of his left cheek left a thicker scar, starting near the hairline and traveling along the upper part of his cheek before stopping abruptly near the eye, pulling up skin so that his upper lip was hitched up the slightest on an angle and made it uncomfortable to move. Luckily his nose hadn’t needed to be cut open to be fixed, but it was most definitely going to be more crooked than before.

The choked noise Will emitted was nearly overridden by the sudden ferocity of his pulse on his heart monitor, his hand shaking slightly. The nurse was saying something, whether to him or Abigail and Hannibal he didn’t know nor care.

It was the hand that wrapped around his that still clung to the phone that got his attention. Turning his gaze up to the owner with eyes he didn’t realize were tearing up. Hannibal gently sat down beside Will and put an arm around him, pulling him close into his side so that Will could lay his head upon the crook of the mans’ neck and shake in utter untamed misery whilst Hannibal, unseen to Wills’ eyes, indicated to the nurse that now was not the best time to continue the procedure. When she left, Abigail followed was a small smile and her own teary eyes, leaving Will and Hannibal alone.

Hannibal, whether consciously or not, rocked gently as he held Will to himself, the only indicator to Will was the slightly creek of the shifting mattress before he himself realized it was happening. It made him feel safe and because of that, it broke him dams quicker then he imagined.

He wasn’t sure where the tears came from or who they were for, perhaps Beverly and her future dark fate, or his years of angry silence wasted in alcohol consumption to hide pain, perhaps for Abigail who’d been treated unfairly or even from what had happened now, his face a mess of future scar tissue that would surely make him a ghastly sight that mothers would turn their children away from as he walked down the street.

It was for all of them, he presumed, every pain soaked second that he’d held inwards, now flooding over in choked sobs and hot tears that stained Hannibal’s shirt collar as the man held him.

 

* * *

 

Abigail had found a spot in the cafeteria, as she did whenever she needed to be someplace in the hospital. Will’s accident had come as a shock, a bitter torture really, but it was something she knew she could work through.

It was Will’s appearance that got her, something he would carry upon his features as a reminder to what had happened to him. And as she drank her gritty coffee, the only person she ever knew she could relate to was going to be the last one she ever wanted. They both now had scars, bright and nasty and visible to the naked eye unless hidden away.

Abigail had always wondered what it’d be like to meet someone else who had a problem such as she, shunned away and embarrassed for something like the one under her scarf for no other reason than having it, but the last person she wanted that from was Will, And the wave of agony when she saw what’d been under those bandages had torn through her like a hurricane.

The bruises and scrapes would heal, sure, some of the stitching would make only thin and small lines, but there was no doubt that the ones on his cheek would leave scar tissue, warping and blemishing once smooth, lightly tanned flesh.

Crossed between wanting to sob and wanting to sit in utter emotional silence until she died, Abigail wished she hadn’t left her phone with Will and Hannibal, although it hadn’t seemed very optional at the time. She wanted to talk to Marissa, or even Beverly. She wondered bleakly how the woman was after the accident…

Abigail was pulled from her thoughts as someone sat down across from her. Expecting it to be Hannibal, she was taken by surprise when it was a girl around her age with dark eyes and pale skin. Abigail didn’t have to guess if the girl was a patient or not because her eyes instantly wandered to the IV drip the girl had rolled along with her as well as her lack of hair.

“You don’t mind do you?” She asked and Abigail shook her head, watching as the girl place a book upon the table and opened it to read.

Abigail sat and watched her turn the pages for what felt like seconds but was probably much longer, only the background noise of shuffling feet, voices, and clinks of utensils on plates were to be heard.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Abigail said, moving her attention to the girl who had stopped reading some time ago to stare at Abigail. She tapped her thumb against her thigh awkwardly and gave a weak smile. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You visiting somebody?” The girl asked, closing her book and suddenly making Abigail very uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, staring at the white floor tiles instead. “Yeah, my dad.”

“Why aren’t you with him then?”

 _Nosy much?_ Abigail decided to indulge the girl, figuring she was just bored and lonely from being stuck in a hospital. She could relate. “His boyfriend is with him. He’s kind of… traumatized?” Was that a good word? Abigail wasn’t sure but it was all she had.

“I’m sorry.” She said, and Abigail finally looked up into the girls’ dark eyes. They were sad, apologetic towards Abigail for her ‘dad’. Abigail frowned. “Why are you sorry? You don’t know us.” _And because you’re obviously not going to live whilst he was going to be fine._

As if knowing what Abigail was thinking, the girl shrugged. “I have enough sorry for myself, I should share it around.” She said instead. “It’s been twenty minutes since I got here, just so you know.”

“Oh, I should probably head back up then.” Abigail said hurriedly, standing and pushing her seat in. She paused before her hasty escape looked offensive to grimace and say, “By the way, condolences.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your dad.” She replied to Abigail before reopening her book. Abigail turned away swiftly and made her way out of the cafeteria and back to the elevator.

By the time she’d reached Will’s door and knocked gently, it appeared Will had composed himself, Although Hannibal still sat on the bed beside him, gently stroking the chocolate curls back from his damaged face as she stared down at his hands.

Will’s eyes snapped up and he instantly shifted, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders to regain the appearance of her regular detached Will, but when he saw her reassuring smile and sad gaze, his shoulders slumped once more.

“Hey Abigail.” He said awkwardly, scratching at the bandages covering his side where his ribs were healing. It seemed like every part of him came through this damaged. “How are you?”

She snorted, moving towards the bed to lean against the edge and smile at Will’s slightly ducked face. “I should be asking you that. I’m okay, Will, but how are you?”

Will didn’t answer, his adams apple audibly moving under his skin as he swallowed his emotions back. Abigail shifted her gaze towards Hannibal as she bit her bottom lip. Hannibal’s warm eyes were forgiving, understanding to what she felt.

“When am I given clearance to leave?” The new question was much better than the last and Abigail huffed slightly, sharing an amused look with Hannibal.

“I believe,” Hannibal said, shifting away from Will, casually running his hand over the his bare shoulders and arm before sliding away fully to receive the clipboard from its place at the end of the bed. He looked over a page before flipping it up slightly to check the next.

Replacing the clipboard, he moved back into his regular spot beside Will, who had yet to raise his gaze to Hannibal, completely confident in the mans’ ability. “I believe once your ribs have healed and they have casted your leg you will be able to travel home, although you will have to minimum body exertion and attend physical therapy.”

“By body exertion you mean be out in the field.” Will said, a bitterness lining his voice. He suddenly gave a strained, almost hysterical laugh. “Jack is going to love this.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Abigail said, taking Will’s hand into her own and squeezing it gently. “He’ll understand.”

“Not likely.” Will said, turning to look up at Abigail and give her a small smile. Her lips parted for the merest second before she returned it. She suddenly realized Will had refused to make eye contact with her, instead staring down at his sheeting pooled around his lap…

“Are you ashamed?” Abigail asked and regretted it the moment she had, the way Will turned his face away whilst clenching his jaw. The dam was cracked and she might as well have blown it open.

Hannibal, who sat on Will’s over side with his hand soothingly placed between his shoulder blades, grimaced slightly at Abigail’s careless speaking about a subject that was surely going to be sensitive for Will. Hannibal was not blind, he’d heard the stories and seen the faded lines marring over what of Will’s torso showed, if Will was sensitive about scars that were hidden he was surely to be about one so blandly emblazed upon his face.

“Abigail.” Hannibal said gently, and as she met his eyes she saw something there that made her pause and understand. Frowning at her own mistake, she began speaking to Will again but stopped. Instead, using her free hand to pull her silky scarf from her next, exposing the pale scar there.

Lifting Will’s hand to it, she laid it flat there, instantly jerking his attention to her. She stared into his surprised eyes with serious determination. “This isn’t your fault Will, and if anyone can understand that it’s me.”

Will nodded, eyes red as he moved his hand over her shoulder to pull her to him in a hug. Hannibal watched with a small smile as the two clung to each other, a father and his child despite the blood between them sharing nothing. A bond formed in trauma that would be only broken by death.

When they broke apart, Will placed a gentle kiss upon Abigail’s forehead and smiled almost sheepishly at her before flinching in what was undeniably pain and reaching his fingers up to touch his face. Abigail instantly looked concerned but Will waved her off.

“I think we should call that nurse back.” She said, amusement and worry in her voice. Will made a noise that could have been taken for objection but Abigail quickly added. “The sooner you’re cleaned up and healing the sooner you can get home.”

Will instantly feel silent as Abigail gave him a somewhat smug look before leaning forward to click the nurse call button on the remote he’d left on the bedside table. “I can run and get you something to eat.” She offered and Will gave her a tired smile and nodded, in no shape to deny he needed it.

Once left alone with Hannibal again, Will made a derisive noise. “She’s going to have to check my ribs apparently. Are you ready to see me shirtless?” There was enough teasing in his tone to suggest he was attempting a joke, so Hannibal indulged him.

“I’m not quite sure, I may need a fan.” He said back, unsure of what else he could possibly reply with, but it got a positive reaction out of Will, who smiled in a way that made crinkles around his eyes, something he quickly stopped out of pain.

“I think I might have to stop smiling.” Will grumbled.

“Only until you are healed, perhaps.” Hannibal said, subtly placing his arm around Will and guiding the other man into his side. Will laid his temple upon Hannibal’s shoulder.

“I think,” Will said, tone heavy with hesitation. “It’s a good thing I’m dating a psychiatrist.”

“Why is that Will?” Hannibal questioned, brushing Will’s curls from his face, something he found himself quite fond of doing, they were soft, the slightest grit building from their lack of wash but Hannibal didn’t mind. “Do you find yourself in future need of psychological help?”

“Yes.” Will murmured blandly, giving no reason where one needn’t be given. He subconsciously leaned into Hannibal’s warm fingertips. “I want you to do me a favor.” Will said suddenly, turning his head up to look at Hannibal, who met his eyes evenly and paused in his fingers from their grooming.

“And what is it?” Hannibal questioned. Will bit his lip softly before responding. “Could you possibly send Abigail home early? She needs to get the dogs back from my neighbor and she can stay with Marissa when she isn’t feeding or walking them.”

“Are you sure about this Will? I doubt she’s going to be very agreeable about such a matter.” Hannibal murmured and Will gave a weak snort.

“Oh, she definitely isn’t going to like this, but I’d prefer it. Please, if you can.”

“I shall. Do you wish to be the one who tells her or should I?” Hannibal questioned, placing his hand ever so gently over Will’s damaged cheek, his skin barely atop the other mans and yet the rough bumps of the stitches where still felt.

“I’ll save you a funeral and do it myself.” Will said jokingly, his eyes locked on Hannibal’s as he unconsciously damped his lips. Hannibal’s thumb trailed ever so lightly across the part of his cheek that was still smooth and undamaged before leaning forward to press a light kiss unto Will’s lips.

Will grinned, borderline bashful as his eyelashes flicked along with his pale gaze. Hannibal smiled back at Will, his teeth showing in an endearing way that made Will push his nose into Hannibal’s neck and hug on, emitting a small laugh.

He felt bad, honestly, being so happy out of the blue whilst Beverly lay in a hospital elsewhere, never to be consciously held again, or even the victims who had died before they could reach the Calling Card. Will didn’t deserve the happiness he felt, and yet…

Hannibal made him feel like he _did_ deserve to be happy.

And it’s that positioned, with Will’s arms wrapped around Hannibal and smiling into the base of his throat while Hannibal held onto Will, stroking small shapes onto his back, that the nurse walked in upon, surprised at first but smiling politely as Will pulled away from Hannibal and apologized profoundly, to which she responded that they ‘get it all the time’.

When Abigail returned with a bowl of soup, soda crackers, milk, and jelly, she sat aside and watched as the nurse unwrapped Will’s side and checked it over, all whilst talking about how last month they’d had a couple who ‘ _couldn’t keep their pants on for more than two seconds_ ’ then went further to say that Hannibal and Will _reminded_ her of them and from what she’d seen she was very impressed by their composer.

Will thought it was embarrassing, trying to resist the urge to hide his face, Hannibal on the other hand opted to stay silent, which from the way his lip twitched, was probably the best option. Abigail though the entire thing was very amusing and spent the entire time shaking silently from laughter, ignoring the looks Will sent her that promised vengeance.

It only made her laugh more.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail is fuming.

She’d done everything she could not to complain, but she was cracking at the seams.

Will had decided her best option was to ‘go home’, take care of his dogs and stay with Marissa. She’d tried to object but he’d been tired and in pain having decided to try and lower his dose of morphine. Her entire time packing she had been grumbling under her breath, but there was no point. Will was technically right, she was no good here.

The plane ride home had been lonely but gave her time to think, having already texted to left Marissa know she was coming to stay until Will got home, she got a taxi to Will’s home in Wolftrap, tossed her clothing in the laundry, changed, and headed over to her car to go get the dogs.

By the time she was back, she was down thirty dollar for repaying the dog food money, her car and herself were covered in dog hair, and she was still grumpy. Abigail watched them wander outside for a bit before coming back inside. She left some kibble in their bowls for them and made sure all the windows and doors were locked.

When she knocked on Marissa’s door it was seven and the air was biting with cold, making her wrap her arms around herself and bounce upon the palms of her feet. When the door opened, she had only a split second to brace herself before Marissa was on her in a fierce hug that made her stumble slightly.

“I’ve been so worried, how are you? How is Will? Is he okay? Is he going to _be_ okay?” She said in quick succession. Abigail placed her hands in Marissa’s shoulder and grinned at her behavior. “Yes he’s fine, well, as close as he can be to fine. And he’ll be okay.”

“Oh thank god.” She said deflating quickly. “I thought you came home early because he was dying slowly and didn’t want you to watch that.”

“ _Marissa_.” Abigail said, flabbergasted by the mere thought. “How could you think that?”

“I was scared.” Marissa pointed out. “Anyway, we can’t stay here?”

“Why not?” Abigail said frowning at Marissa’s sudden drop in tone.

“Because my cousin had some _people_ over.” She said conspiringly, obviously hinting that the people were planning something that her cousin didn’t want her home for. “So we can’t be here tonight.”

“Well, we could go back to Will’s house.” Abigail offered, biting her lip.

“Well,” Marissa said, mischievous glint alighting her eyes. “My cousin gave me some money for a motel like usual. I figured it could be like a campout for us, you know, cheap snacks, strange TV channels.”

“I don’t know.” Abigail said unsurely. “Will said to stay with you-”

“And you Will, just at a hotel for one night. C’mon Abby, it’ll be fun!” she said, her eyes bright and excited in the further darkening sky. Abigail could remember the motel clearly- in the shape of a square with one side open for the parking lot, it had two stories and white siding with fairy lights tied through the railing, sending glittery light over the pool that had been closed at the time.

It was also the place where Abigail first realized she was attracted to Marissa.

“Fine.” She said flatly. “But I have to keep my phone on and if anyone calls I don’t care what’s happening I’m answering.”

“That’s fine with me. Thanks Abby.” She said sincerely despite the grin plastered upon her pretty face.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Abigail called after Marissa, who dodged inside the house to get them both some pajamas as well as her jacket and keys.

“You never regret anything when it comes to me.” Marissa called back, and Abigail smiled slightly.

There, Marissa was wrong. But then again, can’t regrets be positive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly when it comes to Marissa and Abby i think they're gonna be the icebreaker for sexual tension in this fic. Going from unrated to Erotic real quick bro.  
> Yes, Will and Hannibal will rip each other's clothes off. Eventually.
> 
> Will is facing some self-consciousness about his face, which is perfectly understandable because i literally broke his face then fixed it like hell everyone is gonna be a bit conscious about that.
> 
> Gonna get some Beverly in the next chapter OR the one after it. Haven't decided yet. More likely the one after it but you never know.
> 
> SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES THAT MAKE THINGS INTO CONFUSING SENTENCES I AM SOR Ry


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Marissa become a little more intimate
> 
> Post episode chapter release!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM FUCKING DYING FOR NEXT WEEKS EPISODE OMFG
> 
> Anyway, this chapter contains explicit content between two females. (No, no hannigram sexy times yet) If this type of content bothers you in any way (it's none of my business why) i want to tell you there i a quick check in on Hannibal and Will, if you can get to that part and just read some lil fluffy stuff, you'll be fine.  
> unbeta'd still.

Regrets was a great way to explain the night Abigail Hobbs was about to experience.

The motel was exactly as she remembered it, the only defining difference was the open pool, enough room around it so as nobody would risk falling in unexpectedly, which would undoubtedly happen in the summer with the pool chairs and umbrellas placed out, but those were placed away for the upcoming storm that was reportedly coming. A sign posted by the latter that lead the stated it was heated, confirming that was the only reason it was still open.

Marissa went in while Abigail waited outside, Marissa simply stating she didn’t want some pervert giving them a room with peep holes just in case he got to presumptuous about their purpose here that night.

Abigail herself was beginning to feel a little presumptuous as well.

Walking through the chain-link fence that separated the parking lot from the open pool and motel doors, painted in cornflower blues to match the trimming.

Abigail followed Marissa to their door, on the lower floor and on the opposite side to them. Marissa was ecstatic about the pool despite the cold air and was practically bouncing as she unlocked the door to let them in.

The room was nice, a single bed with bedside tables on each side, each bearing a lamp. Across from the bed was an older model TV, like the one Will had when she’d first moved in. To the left there was the door to a bathroom while on the right there was a desk, wardrobe, microwave, and informational booklets.

Marissa tossed her totebag down on the bed, her jacket following shortly after before her shit as well. Her back was to Abigail, who had time to look away and not be caught staring, especially since her friend wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Here I grabbed a bathing suit for you.” She said, shifting slightly to look over her shoulder as she offered it to Abigail, who fought her blush down surprisingly well.

“How did you know the pool was open?” Abigail said, holding the swimsuit up by the strap. Thankfully it was a one piece, but it was fitting in with the new style of having parts of the stomach and back area fashionably removed show her bare side. She wrinkled her nose, more Marissa’s taste then hers, that’s for sure.

Speaking of, Marissa was already in hers, luckily enough Abigail had been too busy figuring out where the rest of the swimsuit was to see anything, although Marissa’s swimsuit showed off everything anyway seeing as the girl was extremely modest, it was no shock.

“What, haven’t you gotten into it yet? Do you need help?” Marissa said, hands on her well defined hipbones. Abigail swallowed awkwardly.

I think I’ll do it in the bathroom.” She said, managing to keep a level tone as she gestured towards the door. Marissa raised her eyebrows as if Abigail might be joking and rolled her eyes when she realized she wasn’t.

“Fine, Whatever, I’ll wait out here.” She said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing her arms.

Abigail made quick work of dressing, occasionally mistaking a spot to put a limb, and finally pulling it on. The mirror above the sick showed her upper body mostly, but from what she saw she didn’t look half bad, although she was nostalgic for her Hawaiian flower patterned one she’d left at home.

When she left the bathroom, awkwardly holding her bundled clothes to her chest, Marissa glanced over and did and almost comical double take, looking her up and down as a slow grin formed her features. “Lookin’ nice Abby. C’mon, they left us some complimentary towels.”

Abigail sighed, allowing Marissa to drag her outside and only giving her a brief second to wrap herself in the towel that had been all but thrown at her. Marissa dropped the towel by the edge and excited hopped in, casting enough pressure that the water splashed as she did.

When she reappeared above the water, she smiled at Abby, her teeth white and eyes crinkled. Under the moonlight and multicolored holiday lights, she looked almost mystical, her grey eyes standing out like orbs and entrancing Abby, who could help but smile in return. Marissa leaned against the ledge and held her hand out for Abigail, who obediently moved forward and bent slightly to hook it in her own and just smile at the other girl.

“Are you just going watch me all night or are you going to come in?” Marissa said with a laugh and Abigail realized she’d been staring.

“I think I’d prefer just to dip my feet in.” Abigail said, sitting down and doing exactly that, the water just barely touching the underside of her knees. Marissa sighed dramatically, turning away.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll have to just go swimming _all by myself._ ” Abigail should’ve seen it coming, the casual tone that was riddled with mischief, the basic movements, but before she could stop it, Marissa had turned quickly, grabbing her by the ankle and tugged, dragging her into the water.

Abigail barely had time to shout “Mar-” before her head was under water. Thrashing at the sudden invasion, she righted herself and her head broke the surface as she gasped for air.

“You okay?” Marissa said, laughing in her voice as Abigail pushed some of her now soaked hair from her face. Marissa was grinning slyly at her but still seemed apologetic. Abigail sudden realized there was very little room between them, maybe a half a fuck at the most. Marissa’s hand was firm on her shoulder.

“I would be much better if you hadn’t pulled me in.” Abigail hissed, but there was no malice in her tone. “You got my towel wet.”

“You can share mine.” Marissa murmured, her gaze was suddenly focused on Abigail’s lips, something that barely went unnoticed as Marissa reached her free hand up to push the wiry, wet hair from Abigail’s face, but even once she had, she didn’t move her head away, and Abigail tilted her head into it.

Abigail couldn’t guess who’d moved first, in her experience it could have very well been her, but all she could do was experience it. The sudden softness of lips against her, a bit salty from the chlorine and smoky from nicotine, but soft, so soft.

She emitted a tiny noise when it was Marissa who made the move to deep it from the simple press of lips on lips. She found herself placing a hand on Marissa’s cheek as she tilted her head, allowing the sudden breach. There was the barest bit of tongue, not enough to be startling but enough to start a fire in Abigail’s gut. Marissa was obviously much more experienced then she’d ever hoped for.

When the pulled apart, it was only with their lips, holding onto each other still even as Marissa nipped gently at Abigail’s lip before releasing it to bite her own and smile. Abigail was inclined to start tapping her fingers as she blushed.

“Well that was… interesting.” Marissa mused, and finally the entire situation seemed to hit Abigail as her happiness dropped away and she stepped away from Marissa in shock. “Oh, no, oh Marissa I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did.” Marissa said, not a conviction, but fact. She was grinning again, forever the wild child she was, unable to have a semiserious moment for too long. “You don’t kiss someone like that and not mean it.”

Abigail stays quiet for a minute, standing stalk still while Marissa gently moved on the spot, arms and feet shifting through warm water. “If you want I’ll leave.” She decided on quietly, unable to meet her friends’ eyes.

Marissa snorted, drawing Abigail attention back up as the girl moved back towards her and stood up properly before taking Abigail’s hand and winding the fingers with her own. “Why would I want you to go?” She said as if it was the most ridiculous thought in the world. “I _did_ kiss you back.”

“Besides,” She said, her tone suddenly much more dusky as she pressed in on Abigail, who looked up at Marissa’s stormy colored eyes in surprise. “I’m not opposed to experimenting.”

 _Woah wait, ‘experimenting’?_ Abigail didn’t have much time to think of the comment which made her feel a twinge of insult before being swept into a surprisingly hot kiss. One of Marissa’s hands was in her hair was the over slide over her side, down her hips, across her waist and suddenly dipping downwards to- oh.

Abigail made a surprised tittering noise and nearly jumped at the boldness she should’ve expected from Marissa, who grinned at her as her hand kept sliding and circling over material and-

“Not here.” Abigail squeaked, putting both hands onto Marissa shoulders. The girl retracted her curious fingers and Abigail felt a momentary pang of regret.

“What? Why?” Marissa questioned before noticing Abigail’s eyes flit over the main office. She snorted. “What you worried about some creepy watching? Let them.”

Another smoldering kiss was placed upon Abigail and she accepted it before remembering what her previous train of thought was. “I insist.” She said hurriedly, giving Marissa a weak smile, who huffed and stepped away from her to give her some room.

“Fine.” She said, with a brisk, almost business like smile. “But we’re showering first.”

“I’ve never liked the taste of chlorine anyway.” Abigail joked and earned herself an actual grin from Marissa, who gestured for her to go ahead. Abigail moved towards the ladder, Marissa behind her.

She should’ve figured a ulterior movement from Marissa before the girl popped her on the bottom as she climbed up the ladder, making her jump and squeak before tossing a venomous look over her shoulder at Marissa, who wiggled her eyebrows and bit her lip. Abigail had to laugh.

The damp towels lay forgotten by the pool.

When Marissa closed the door, she was totally confident, meanwhile Abigail wasn’t quite sure how to do this, completely lost having never thought this would actually _happen._

“You can go first.” Marissa said, waving towards her as she sat against the edge of the bed to start unlacing the back of her bikini top. “There’s towels under the sink.”

“Alright.” Abigail said with a small smile before sliding into the bathroom and shutting the door. She leaned against it for just a second, eyes closed and exhaling a long held breath. She looked at herself in the mirror, in a swimsuit that wasn’t hers and a feeling so alien in her chest she couldn’t believe it was real.

Sliding out of her swimsuit and laying it against the free counter space beside the sink, she quickly adjusted the temperatures and got in, letting the warm water work itself into her skin. She suddenly became very self-conscious – She hadn’t shaved in a while, the last in the dark marble shower of hers and Hannibal’s hotel room, too dark to see if she was doing it properly and mind too preoccupied. She would definitely take advantage of the mini complimentary mouthwash on the sink edge.

This was a total shock. No better way to describe it. Marissa Schurr kissed – _no,_ Abigail kissed Marissa, who kissed her back. And now they were going to have _sex._

“Marissa and I are going to have sex.” She murmured aloud to herself in an attempt for her brain to process it quicker. It wasn’t working. She suddenly realized Will was lying _half dead_ in a hospital in a completely different city while his own lover held his hand and never left his side. A sudden guilt hit Abigail so strong she thought she might gag. She quickly got out, not wanting to give herself any time to doubt.

She made quick work of drying her hair and body before wrapping the towel around herself and leaving the bathroom. Marissa was sitting against the edge of the bed, hands braced upon the mattress ledge and legs stretched out in front of her as she kept pressure on the balls of her feet. She was completely naked and not hiding anything.

“It’s, well, all yours.” She said gesturing towards the bathroom and Marissa grinned, getting up, she stopped to peck Abigail gently and give her a somewhat encouraging grin, then as she passed, hooked the back of her towel and pulled it off. Abigail made a surprised noise as Marissa paused at the bathroom door to wink at her, taking the towel inside with her before closing it.

As if by an afterthought, she opened it again to stick her head out. “Abigail?”

“Yes?” She responded, back to still to Marissa as she turned slightly to look over at the girl, who grinned, looking her up and down.

“Stay naked.”

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently the crash had not changed Will’s finicky habits.

Hannibal endured, naturally, as a predator always does; adjusting to fit their plans and wills when circumstances that were uncontrollable changed them. Or in this case, _Wills’_ plans and wills. Will was the source of many slightly _irritating_ problems, such as he hated the comforter like blanket, but was too cold in the thin sheets lying beneath it, making him constantly push the blanket aside by pull it back up minutes later. Hannibal figured that Will slept under a quilt, perhaps a family heirloom, which would be the perfect mix of fluffy and light which caused him to be unable to choose one cover over the other.

Then there was the problem of his self-consciousness, something that he’d always had but now seemed to have tripled in strength as he adorned his new reconstructed features. Despite Hannibal telling Will that he did not find his new face repulsive in any way, Will still wouldn’t not meet his eyes while speaking or even turn his face in that direction, rather the opposite as if to avoid making Hannibal _sick_ by some strange science of the mind. And even then he kept his chest firmly covered by sheeting as if to hide what was already done by Hannibal seeing the thin silvery scars branded upon his flesh.

Hannibal also learned many small things from this as well, some making him almost want to send the not-so-cleverly-named ‘Calling Card Killer’ flowers. It turns out will was allergic to orange peels but not the fruit itself, and when he slept he snored ever so slightly in a way that could be described as adorable. In the morning he always woke at the same time not a minute to soon or too late, and his new beard was being considered exceptionally annoying seeing as he’d kept it almost obsessively trimmed to the way he desired, the same obsessiveness was also held to the way he performed his hygiene, the fact he was bed ridden made bathing very limited, something that seemed to annoy him for than his growing hair.

Hannibal often read to Will, beginning once more at the first chapter of ‘The Picture of Dorian Grey’ and reading it aloud. Will had had a particularly painful day and had to stop his current lowering of morphine and bring it up one more, the sudden strength of the drug caused him to be drowsy and slightly loopy, making his confirm with a fluttery smile that he thought Hannibal had a beautiful voice. Something he thankfully did not remember the next morning for his dignity’s sake.

There was a few times Will roped Hannibal into playing poker using a stack of probably germ infested playing cards and used pistachios and lemon slices as bargaining chips. Will had won the first round by a landslide, but Hannibal came back just as vicious to win the next two. When the prerecorded rules stated the loser would have to eat one of the lemon slices, Will had wrinkled his noise endearingly before biting into it, never being able to go back on a promise.

And as the day went by he found himself learning more and more. Will’s preference of coffee fillers depending on his mood, the way his eyebrows pressed together when he concentrated, the way his lips were a fluffy pink especially after he chewed upon the bottom one.

Yes, Will was finicky, but the longer Hannibal watched him, the more he realized he could deal with it.

 

* * *

 

 

Marissa Shurr considered herself the queen of confidence.

She’d always been this way, ever since when he was little, marching up to the classroom front to present her poem or even later one when poems because Word Presentations and school musicals, either way, she was confident and bold, and everything anybody would want to be. After all, confidence was sexy.

Not that she needed it to be, anyway. Maybe that’s what drew Abigail to her, or well, her to Abigail.

Marissa had never been against a little experimentation, she’d slept with girls before, usually whilst drunk or high at a party or in a bathroom stall at a bar, it felt right that the first time sober been done with somebody she knew, no strings attached and something they could laugh about when they were older.

She wondered absentmindedly if Abigail had done this before, she wasn’t blind, she’d seen her friend checking out guys before even if it was just in passing, but she’d never actually thought to jump _a girls’_ bones. She was actually starting to debate if they could have an actual relationship out of this, because they were already best friends, and being romantically involved even if for a little bit wouldn’t damage that, in fact It’d probably bring them closer together as long as it didn’t get messy or dramatic.

But hey, how could it get messy and dramatic when they knew each other so well that they practically read each other’s thoughts? It would be obvious to them both the best time to break it off and they’d act on it.

Or maybe they should just stick to a quick, to strings attached lay…

Well, how good it was going to be really defined it was all Marissa could guess as she ran her fingers over her chest, over her breasts and pausing occasionally to pull at the nipple. These could be Abigail’s hand in mere minutes… sweet Abby, the girl whom she’d shared her markers and crayons with in kindergarten…

It was going to be a bit strange, she knew, but things often leave the mind when fingers and being playful in naughty places. Abigail had nice fingers, long and thin, she’d probably be very good at this as well. A bonus of her previous years in piano lessons.

Speaking of Abigail, she must be driving the girl nuts out there, making her wait, shy and blushing as she’s always been when it came to speaking about her romantic history, but now she got to see it in action, be the one participating. Abigail was probably a bottom, or a power bottom at the most. Marissa was fine with that having never been picky herself.

She ran her fingers down her stomach, gently over the neatly trimmed patch of hair between her legs before in between, purring slightly at the contact with the sensitive flesh she found there, already damp at the prospect of action between herself and the girl waiting outside.

With her heart beating a sudden new pace, Marissa turned off the shower, dried herself quickly and dried the most of her hair with a towel. As much as she’d love to build anticipation, she found herself more aroused at the idea of a sober sexual encounter with a female she knew more enticing then making her wait.

She exited the bathroom, her heart jumping in sudden anticipation. _This was it._

Abigail was seated on the opposite end of the bed and turned to smile shyly over her shoulder as Marissa came out. She wasted no time climbing onto the bed and crawling across it to capture Abby’s lips in her own, gently running her fingers down the girl’s shoulder to her elbow and back up, the other arm creeping around her other side to firmly place itself on her stomach, fingers spread.

Abigail leaned into the touch and kissed Marissa back with reassurance. They both wanted this, although neither of them knew it was actually for very different reasons.

They both became bolder, Abigail turn towards Marissa, tucking her legs up onto the bed as she placed a hand upon Marissa’s cheek, nearly gasping as a warm hand found her breast.

Marissa moved suddenly, hooking Abigail over so she was flat on her back, head on the pillow as Marissa was over her, her long damn hair causing an almost tunnel like effect as Abigail looked up at her with large cornflower blue eyes and gave a surprised laugh at the sudden change.

Marissa smiled down at Abigail as the other girl smiled up. It was quiet, and Marissa could swear she heard both of their heartbeats in this second of euphoria before passion took over.

“Hi.” Abigail murmured, grinning widely to show her quaint white teeth. Marissa grinned back. “Hi.”

Ducking her head down one more to kiss the soft lips Abigail held so presentably, Marissa took the bottom one gently between her teeth and pulled at it slightly before releasing it. Tempted to duck her back down once more, to taste the soft skin she saw exposed upon Abby’s collarbone, but first she hesitated to speak.

“You’re all okay with this, right?” She said, making a purpose motion for eye contact of which Abby returned. “Because if you’re not we can stop.”

“I’ve wanted this for a while now.” She said with a sheepish grin and Marissa laughed lightly, ducking her head down to peck Abigail gently on the lips before trailing her lips along the well-crafted jaw and down onto her throat, dampening the skin midway before sucking a light mark there.

Abigail made a small noise, one arm draped lazily around Marissa’s neck with the other hand ran over her breasts, shy at first but more confident, cupping one to run her thumb across the nipple and causing a shiver down Marissa’s spine.

She shifted, moving down a bit so that she could move her lips steadily over Abigail’s collarbone and down between her breasts, she paused, glancing up at Abigail who watched her steadily from her partially sitting position, one that must be uncomfortable but nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice for that moment.

Marissa continued her path of gentle nips and kisses, occasionally making Abigail jump, especially when her lips landed upon one of Abigail’s breasts and she grazed her teeth over the hardened nipples, loving the noise she got out of her friend.

She decided to cut to the chase, knowing Abby she’d either never done this before or when he had it’d been a neutral sexual experience, not something fantastic or mind blowing like Marissa _knew_ she could provide.

Maintaining eye contact, she slid her fingers down over Abigail’s inner thigh before sliding them up to what she was really aiming for. Damp from arousal, Abigail sucked in air sharply as Marissa gently ran her fingers, almost teasingly, along the crevice of the folds before pushing her fingers through into the damp warmth.

Abigail instantly latched on Marissa’s shoulders and brought her face up to kiss her as Marissa kept moving her fingers, mimicking thrusts and gently rubbing around in small circles that made Abigail and kiss her with more heat which she returned.

Deciding to take her teasing nature back on, Marissa ever so lightly ran her thumb over the clit, making Abigail shake wildly as she cried out in surprise at the sudden experience. Marissa was right, this was _so_ much better when he wasn’t on anything.

Keeping up the steady pattern of rubbing and petting, she used her other hand to run ticklish fingers gently over Abigail’s warm skin, leaving wet kisses on her most sensitive skin on her neck. When she came, she cried Marissa’s name in a truly delicious way and Marissa had to taste it on those flushed lips.

Abigail took no time recovering from her own bodily pleasure, rolling Marissa over and blushing as she did, although the crooked smile on her face said that her actions would be anything but. Marissa’s doubts were mostly pushed aside, seeing as Abigail decided to use her mouth instead of fingers, something only a person of experience could pull off as well as she did, leaving small suck marks and nips on Marissa’s inner thighs and along her hipbones.

When Abigail saw the scarring upon the upper half of Marissa’s thigh, easily covered by both shorts and jeans, she frowned disapprovingly before kissing the thin purposefully made nicks, causing a strange affection to rush through Marissa at Abigail’s full hearted compassion.

Abigail makes short but efficient work of Marissa, when she orgasms, she shouts, but it’s not Abigail’s name. It’s nobody’s name. A nameless shout for a nameless act. They both collapse, sudden exhaustion slipping onto them both, Abigail’s assisted by the recent stress of Will’s accident.

Marissa pulls Abigail to her side, much like that time they dozed off in Hannibal’s guest bedroom, except more intimate, more pliable. And as Marissa pulled the sheet up upon them, Abigail smiled sleepily.

She was going to make somebody very happy one day, and Marissa couldn’t wait to see.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail woke happier then she’d been in months.

In the warm embrace of the girl she’d long loved, she doubted it could be much better. Judging by the darkness that still shone through the window to her left, it couldn’t be more than one. Marissa stirred not long after, something they’d both long since found unusual. Abigail could fondly recall the childhood sleepovers, one was never awake without the other.

“Hey.” Abigail murmured, propping herself up slightly to look down upon her friend, forever beautiful in no matter what lighting. Marissa smiled drowsily back up at her. “Hey.”

They were silent for what felt like a long time before Marissa murmured. “I had a good time.”

“I did too.” Abigail said, the darkness successfully hiding her blush.

Abigail turned slightly, reaching off the bed to feel around in her bag, she returned to her proper spot with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit one, completely unconscious of Abigail being in her space and took a drag. “We should do this again. It’s good to experiment.”

 _Experiment?_ Abigail had heard that word earlier, but now it jolted something inside her as she frowned down at Marissa. “What do you mean by experimenting?”

“Well, that’s what this is, isn’t it?” She said with a laugh as if it was obvious. “Easy sex for both of us.”

 _Easy sex? That’s it?_ Abigail’s frown was becoming deeper as her brows pressed together. “Is that what that was to you? Just experimental easy sex?”

“Well, yeah.” Marissa said, her tone continuing that obvious gloat that was starting to grate on Abigail as every sentence Marissa said seemed to make her heart drop even more. “It wasn’t that to you?”

Abigail remained silent, but the illumination of the cigarette and the moonlight behind her seemed to show enough of her face that Marissa’s mouth parted in shock and her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly, making Abigail have to do the same as to avoid being hit in the forehead.

“Oh my god, this wasn’t just sex to you?” Marissa said in complete shock. A sudden malicious deviance filled her tone as she narrowed her eyes on Abigail, who pushed herself across the bed and tried to avoid that gaze. “You have a _thing_ for me.”

“Marissa plea-” Abigail began to say but Marissa wasn’t letting her interrupt, this newfound discovery causing some shocked perverted delight in her. “I had no idea you were gay Abby, how long as that been for?”

“Marissa!” Abigail snapped, embarrassment coiling inside of her as she crossed her arms, completely offended.

“Wait, hold on.” Marissa said suddenly, narrowed eyes now widening comically while her mirthful grin stayed in place. “Are you in _love_ with me?”

“I need to check on the dogs.” Abigail said suddenly, pushing herself up and reaching for her folded clothes beside the bed, but Marissa either didn’t take the hint or didn’t intend to. “Oh my god, you are. You are totally in love with me.”

And then she laughed.

Abigail forced herself not to freeze as she pulled her underwear and jeans on, face red with embarrassment and anger. She was _laughing_ at her. Jovially from the sounds. She didn’t clasp her bra properly in a hurry to get it on and pulled her shirt on.

“Oh c’mon, you’re leaving just because i’m laughing?” Marissa said, voice all too nonchalant for the conversation. “Don’t be a baby, Abs. It’s probably just a phase.”

 _Just a phase??_ She felt tears threaten her eyes. “No, really Marissa, I have to check on the dogs. I think I forgot to feed them.”

A lie. A blind, white lie. Marissa made an ‘hmm’ noise, and called after Abigail as she pulled on her jacket. “Hey, the sex was good at least. I had a good time.”

Abigail gave her a weak smile over her shoulder, a reassurance that she was fine. She wasn’t fine. Her chest cavity had just been filled with ice and the pain was extreme. “I had a good time too.” She murmured, before sliding out.

She didn’t bother with a cab at first, angry walking away, anywhere really. She didn’t give a fuck. Her car was at Marissa’s, so that’s where she went. Better then facing the girl never then later.

As if by impulse, Abigail didn’t go straight home. She had no point. It was early barely anything open, but she found a small coffee shop. She entered, wiping her red eyes and managing to control the sobs that wanted to break free of her lips. Three teens were mingled among the counter, sitting upon it or leaning against the opposite one. One of them was asking the others about their math homework when she entered.

She got a coffee, small and black. She was surprised when she was given a complimentary muffin, but smiled none the less. It was obvious they could see she was despairing- she hated that they could. She drank the coffee down still boiling and picked at the muffin. She debated throwing it out but decided instead to bring it home.

The drive back to Will’s home, secluded, alone, and far off, was quiet and dark. The radio played music silently but her ears were buzzing. So this was heartbreak. The realization that somebody wouldn’t love you the same way. It felt like drowning in cold water, or maybe being punched in the chest so that it was hard to breathe.

The dogs swarmed her when she went inside the dark home and locked the door behind her. She kept the lights off, kicking away her shoes. She knew they were expecting Will, having missed their master, but she knew she was second best to that.

Tossing aside her jacket and kicking her boots aside, she walked to the fireplace, the bundle of dog beds in front of it except for a space in the center of it all. When she moved in she’d thought a dog had died recently and Will had removed the bed, but in reality she’d found him sleeping down there before, surrounded by the warm animals.

She found the appeal.

Tugging the flannel blanket off the back of the couch, she curled up and watched as the dogs joined her in their assembled beds of shapes and sizes.

Abigail felt numb, awkward. Less than ten hours ago, she was having sex with Marissa. The girl she’d been in love with for many years, and within minutes had her heart broken by the same girl. She didn’t cry, didn’t yell or scream to the heavens like she wanted to.

She lay on her side among the dogs, and let the unexplained emotional exhaustion put her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a week to write Marissa and Abigail hooking up and like four minutes to smash Abigail's heart lmao
> 
> So i'm sorry if this was unexpected or disliked i feel like posting this was risky as fuck, basically it's me sticking my toe in the water to check the temperature before jumping in.
> 
> Also, here's a basic idea of what the motel looked like (just not as retro and at night): http://cdn-imgs-mag.aeon.co/images/2012/09/42-20440421-quiggan-keynes-leisure.jpg


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is invited to dinner and ends up coaching Abigail, who is emotionally overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Will is facing demons he didn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this fic is on the fast track down to sadville and it's gonna get real ugly real fast. Like in the next two chapters fast.  
> Unbeta'd. Sorry per usual for any mistakes.

The day Hannibal and Will had arrived back in Baltimore, Abigail had met them at the airport.

It was snowing outside, fluffy clusters powdering down with only a few days till Christmas. Will had complained that time went too fast in hospitals, and although Hannibal knew it didn’t, he himself was beginning to agree.

Will had been very finicky about his crutch the day of his leave, but seemed to have formed some silent deal with Hannibal that if he used it like he was supposed to, Hannibal would hold his free own hand in Will’s. Something Hannibal would do either way, but it was best to use as a bargaining chip rather than a subtle display of affection.

Although it didn’t feel very affectionate. The more Will’s healing had progressed, the more distant he seemed to become, withdrawing into himself, his smiles wavering and brief and no longer attempting at his regular bout of sarcastic like optimistic tendencies. Even as he held Hannibal’s hand, it was loose, his fingers slightly bent but all but ready to slide out as they walked through the cold winds and into the airport as their flight landed.

Abigail seemed to have spotted them quicker than they spotted her, coming forward quickly and with a bright, excited smile, and though she wore it convincingly, Hannibal instinctively realized something was wrong. She didn’t so much as wear her jacket as huddle into it and seemed extremely uncomfortable, almost as if she was ill, the bags under her eyes seemed to further instate that. Still, she put on a smiling face and hugged Will, who released Hannibal’s hand to hug her back.

Then, to his surprise, she hugged him as well, the sudden act showing surprise blandly on his features as he patted her gently on the back with the hand that was not currently holding his bags. He suddenly realized her intentioned when she murmured into his ear. “ _I need to talk to you.”_

When she pulled away, he gave her a small smile and a reassuring nod. She looked relieved.

They didn’t pause much to wait, Abigail and Hannibal concerned on getting Will off his feet. They continued on with the same pace as before, Abigail joining their group. Will had to pause for a second or two every few minutes, being unused to the crutch planted firmly under one arm but also, even if he wouldn’t admit it, the pain. Although Abigail was the one of initiate conversation, Hannibal was highly doubtful Will was listening properly as she told him about the uneventful nights she’d apparently had with Marissa.

“How is Marissa?” Will said suddenly, making a rewarding smile curve ever so slightly upon Abigail’s lips. She considered this question a win, meaning she had been wondering if Will was listening, too. Will’s face showed nothing, face turned more toward the floor so as not to be blandly seen. Hannibal wondered if Will knew about Abigail’s feelings towards Marissa. Perhaps a parental intuition.

“She’ fine.” Abigail said, an odd tone to her voice as her arms wrapped around herself. “She says hi.”

“I was going to ask if she minded you staying over,” Will said in the same detached voice. “Although I doubt she did.”

“No, she didn’t mind at all.” Abigail said with a sad smile. It spoke a multitude of words to Hannibal. Abigail was hiding something about her friend and it was probably about the girl they were speaking up. Her eyes met Hannibal’s momentarily and she seemed to pick up on his processing thoughts, quickly looking away.

Silence resettled and followed them until they reached their cars. Will’s had been there the entirety of his stay in Boston, as had Hannibal’s, while Abigail had taken a cab. It was lucky when she had gone home early she’d brought all but some of Will’s clothes, otherwise they’d be rather stuffy in his compact car.

 “Would you like to come to dinner?” Will said suddenly as they neared his little van, he’d paused, leaning heavily into his crutch and glanced up at Hannibal who’d done the same, turning to face him. Will’s free hand rubbed against the back of his neck, something reassuring to Hannibal no matter how small it was, something that said Will was still himself. “It’s the least I can do you making you miss so much work.”

“Will it is fine. I am the one for made the choice to come to your aid.” Hannibal said warmly, smiling down upon Will’s stony, almost expressionless appearance. Something inside him had changed, he’d usually be shy and flustered at what he’d just said but instead he showed nothing. Hannibal was contemplating if not all Will’s injuries had been physical. “But yes Will, I would enjoy joining you for dinner.”

Will seemed to deflate slightly, what once should have been a smile working his way onto his face was just a nod. Placing his free hand on Hannibal’s bicep, he went up slightly upon his toes and planted a kiss upon Hannibal’s sharp cheekbone, the first remotely personal thing he’d done without it being suggested to him. Standing flat once more, Will removed his hand from Hannibal’s arm to point it somewhat at his chest, a ghost of a teasing action. “We’ll have to pick up ingredients. Everything in my fridge has probably gone bad by now.”

Hannibal resisted the urge to remind him that Abigail had probably made sure to refresh the kitchen stock, but decided not to. Will needed to integrate back into society to help regain his lost confidence, no matter how slow the process may be. Instead, he smiled. “Of course. I will see you again at your home before we depart to discuss what we will need.”

“See you then.” Will replied, tone clipped and attempted something meant to be a smile but came out as a grimace. Abigail had insisted on driving, but even then he paused, staring at the car. But as will turned and headed towards the car, he froze suddenly, less than a foot in front of it with his eyes locked upon the passenger seat he’d be sitting in.

Hannibal’s eyes met Abigail’s, her distress obviously shown while Hannibal hid any reaction. This was very curious, something he had not expected to see but should have. Will had squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clearly clasped and fists balled to the point his knuckles were white. Hannibal presume the same could be said for his feet inside his shoes. Will’s adams apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Hannibal moved forward gently, placing a hand upon Will’s shoulder. The man didn’t jump, but flinched, muscles coiling beneath his skin for a few moments before he realized it was a comforting gesture. Pale lids flicked open, and he slowly moved his head to look over his shoulder at the hand there and then onto Hannibal, who watched impassively.

Fear, it shone bright and cold like ice in Will’s eyes from the briefest second before vanishing, as did the perplexed look upon his face, sliding back into its stoic shell from before. “I’m fine.” He said before Hannibal could even ask, and slid from his grip. “I’ll see you in Wolftrap.”

Hannibal watched Will get into the back seat of the car, Abigail sharing one more worried glance before starting the car. Hannibal knew that Abigail wouldn’t ask and Will wouldn’t mention. He easily turned his back and walked to his own vehicle, not too far from Will’s own.

As Hannibal started the engine, he debated the possibilities of what was to come. Post-traumatic stress disorder perhaps, in which case Will was sure to start facing night terrors as well as momentary loss of reality. Or perhaps he’ll never be able to travel properly by car again, constantly thinking a collision would happen and he would be in Ms. Katz’s fate this time with nobody to save him.

Hannibal tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he managed his way from the car parking lot. It was no doubt to Hannibal that Will would refuse psychiatric help until the last second, but he still felt like it was his duty- not only as a psychiatrist himself but a mate of sorts for Will- to make sure he maintained his proper mental and physical health.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hannibal was starting to figure this might become a little more difficult then he can manage.

 

* * *

 

 

As Will’s feet hit the gravel, he’d never felt such relief in his life.

It clung to his every feature as he exited the car and began his unsteady path towards the front doors of his home, crutch giving in to the ground softened by on-and-off snow. He was vaguely aware of Abigail following behind him, but his mind was set on one thing.

He all but tossed the door open, having mere seconds to brace himself for the rush of furry bodies that swarmed him, bouncing around and attempting to jump on him. Instead of letting them knock him down and injure him more, he went down onto his knees and let himself be cascaded with adoring licks and nudges.

Will let them rub against him, sniff at his clothes and lick at his face, but even such a familiar feeling didn’t bring back that happiness from before. His heart seemed constrained, leaving an almost unreliable emotion in place. But even then. He let himself rub their furry backs and ask them how they were while Abigail watched from the steps.

“So,” she asked, arms crossed as she learned against the edge of the white washed wooden rails. “What are you going to make for Hannibal?”

Will didn’t answer at first, contemplating. He hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know.” He said lamely. From the way Abigail shifted, he knew she was fighting impatience at his continuous lack of current emotions. “Well you can’t exactly feed him frozen peas.”

“Brunswick Stew.” He said suddenly and Abigail frowned.

“You’ve mentioned that to me before, haven’t you? It’s Southern.” Abigail asked, sounding contemplative as she mull over it. “That could work. How long does it take?”

“About three hours if you include shopping.” Will murmured.

“And you know for sure he’s not a vegetarian?” Abigail asked. Will made a derisive little noise.

“I can _assure_ you he isn’t vegetarian.” Will responded, and realized the minute the words left his mouth the unintended double meaning. Abigail let out a mixture of something like a snort and a laugh that came out high pitched.

Will was saved by rumbling purr of Hannibal’s Bentley, which dragged the attention of all the dogs, who didn’t stiffen or bark, meaning they knew who was coming. As Hannibal approached, Will’s pack went rushing towards him, and it was his turned to stop stalk still as the dogs swarmed around his ankles and tried to lick his palms. Winston was on the only one who stayed with Will.

Once it seemed Hannibal became uncomfortable enough for Will’s own attempt as self-amusement, he whistled for the dogs attention and they slunk away to wander around the yard. Winston went over to sniff Hannibal, who ducked slightly to offer the dog his palm. It earned him a lick that once Winston had trotted back to Will, he wiped upon his trousers. Will seemed to suddenly come to his senses, glancing up at Abigail and Hannibal he shifted uncomfortably where he sat. He didn’t want to admit the truth.

“These is no need to worry, Will.” Hannibal said before Will could say anything. Hannibal went around to Will’s back, crouching down to wrap and arm around him sturdily and place the hand under his arm to help him stand. Will didn’t want to admit how much it helped as he dug his fingers into Hannibal’s shoulder and let himself be pulled back into the standing position. When Hannibal pulled away, he trailed his hand over Will’s shoulders, leaving a warm trail across his flesh.

Once upon his feet, he stood awkwardly for a moment before he gestured to the door for Hannibal and Abigail to enter before him, but got roped into going first when Hannibal moved to open the door for him. He didn’t like the way he was being treated- like he was breakable. Sure, he was currently broken, but he wasn’t breakable in general.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, standing not too far from the door, just by the back of the couch. He traced his fingers over its coarse material as he took in the home he remembered perfectly- the forestry colors and cozy atmosphere, books and the odd mug placed in strange places as dog beds reined chaos across the hardwood flooring. He felt strange, out of place in his own home. It was like it’d changed somehow while he was gone. In reality, it was he who’d changed.

“We’re making a stew for dinner.” Abigail said aloud, evidently to Hannibal, who graced her with a smile. “Excellent.”

“We need to pick up most of the stuff.” Will said awkwardly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the flooring and not meeting Abigail or Hannibal’s eyes, even when he could tell they were probably exchanging glances. “There’s a few places not far from here.”

 “If you composed a list, Abigail and I could go and retrieve the ingredients.” Hannibal offered suddenly. “So that you could wash and rest for a while in the comforts of home.”

Will knew what he was doing, and even though he didn’t want to, he appreciated it. Deeply. But still he hesitated, mouth open to reply before he shut it. There was no argument to be made, Abigail could show him where to go, Hannibal had the money, and they both had an interest in Will’s health. Giving a firm nod followed by an “alright.”

The list wasn’t hard to compose, using the wall to write on, Abigail had provided a paper and pen before Will could even move. He paused occasional to remember one or two things, Hannibal and Abigail all to patient. When he finished, he folded it and passed it between two fingers to Hannibal, who took it and glanced down at the ingredients.

“Have you made such a recipe before?” Hannibal asked, head cocked. Will shrugged lazily.

“Alright, well, let’s get these because the sooner we start the sooner we eat.” Abigail said brightly before turning to Hannibal as if to ask him something. She stopped, closed her mouth and shook her head. “We’re taking your car.”

He inclined his head and followed her to the door, Will casually following out of instinct. He stopped at the door and as did Hannibal, Abigail already off the porch, Hannibal took the opportunity of privacy to turn to Will and gently put his hand upon the side of the man’s neck, feeling the pulse beat beneath it.

Will’s eyes shone with a momentary second of surprise before Hannibal pulled him forward into his arms and kissed him gently on the forehead before balancing his chin upon Will’s curls. Will’s fingers curled around Hannibal’s wrist and they stayed like that, for just a moment, standing there calmly.

When the broke apart, Hannibal gave him one last smile before sliding out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail had chosen to stand by Hannibal’s car instead of letting herself in, something he greatly appreciated, having found it rude when people did such.

She also did not comment when Hannibal came out a few minutes later then she, but smiled nonetheless as he beeped the car to let her in. She kept her hands and feet tightly pressed together, trying to take up as little of the seat as possible. Her explanation came without question as she pulled her buckle on. “My father always said a car is like another limb, and you can see what people are like from how they treat that limb. He would like to talk about how if you wouldn’t hurt a person, you wouldn’t hurt their car. It’s like when you have a nasty break up and you key someone’s car, it’s you taking your anger out on a piece of them without any physical damage.” She snorted. “It was all very stereotypical.”

“Many people see their vehicles as an extension of themselves.” Hannibal responded, starting the car engine which gave a low, appearing rumble that made Abigail grin at him. It was evident she’d never been in a car such as his.

Abigail and Hannibal sit in silent as they pull out onto the lonely road surrounded by woods. Abigail is staring out the window, the radio is turned down so it’s barely audible but a soft classical music is emitted from it. “Do you think Will wouldn’t have been hurt as bad if he wasn’t wearing his belt?”

It was a strange sort of question, one that was very opinionated yet didn’t feel like a question. Hannibal though about his answer before glancing over at Abigail, who’d turned to watch him with her large eyes. “I think that Will is alive with only mild deformities and we should be thankful. It could have very easily been him as well as Ms. Katz that would not recover.”

Abigail nodded sadly. “Will, he’s going to be okay, right?”

Hannibal smiled gently at her, letting it show in the corner of his eyes. “We are here to take care of him Abigail, and so long as that is I believe he will be okay.”

Abigail nodded, and the conversation dropped. Once they came into the more localized area, she directed him through the town to the only organic grocery store she knew. When Hannibal parked, he raised his eyebrows at her and she shrugged. “I don’t think you’re the type to go to Walmart. I would take you to the market but it’s closed in the winter.”

Hannibal found her initiative actions amusing and followed her into the store. “I’ve been here with Marissa before.” She said over her shoulder as she picked up a steel hand basket. “She likes the lemonade.”

“And how is your Marissa?” Hannibal questioned as he and Abigail wandered to the left corner beside the door were fresh vegetables were placed out on show. Although a lot of the recipe called for the vegetables to be frozen, Hannibal presumed it was simply because that was the way Will’s family would’ve had them.

“She’s not mine.” Abigail said suddenly and rather reproachfully. They paused together, Abigail staring up at him with her brows pressed together, Hannibal staring down without a hair out of place.

“I meant no offence.” Hannibal supplied as they began their steady stroll, his hands in his jacket pockets- he’d chosen something simple today, and as he had the entirety of his time with will. A tan sweater the same color of his jacket over a button down with a simple pair of slacks.

“I know, I’m sorry for snapping at you.” She said with a frown, something clearly bothering her. “Could you read out the list please?”

“Certainly.” Hannibal replied. “It appears we will need onions, garlic, whole kernel corn, lima beans, cream-style corn, and lemons from this section of the store.”

“Well that shouldn’t be hard, tomatoes are right there.” She said pointing to one of the bars laden with different types. “Wonder what type we should get- does it say?”

“No, it does not.” Hannibal said, sidling over to the display. “Although these,” he said, holding up a little plastic container of yellow tomatoes. “Are not ideal, nor or those.” He said, indicating the other small tomatoes. Abigail frowned.

“Why’s that?” She said, picking up a package herself to investigate it as if the answer was written upon it blandly.

“Because of their size, they reach a higher sugar content then a regular sized tomato, making them sweeter and perfect for a summer salad or snack while unideal for something such as this.” Hannibal explained as Abigail’s eyebrows climbed steadily up her face at the sudden education in tomatoes. “The ideal flavor of a tomato is a balance of acidity and sugar, as well as the influence of elusive volatile compounds that created the aroma and flavor we associate with the fruit.”

“Wow.” Abigail said, a grin tugging her lips. “So let’s just get the big red ones.”

“Well if you wanted a specific-” Hannibal began, but Abigail was already moving across to the opposite display. “I think the specific ones I want are the ones I actually can pronounce the name of, Hannibal.” She teased gently.

He stayed quiet for a moment, regarding her, before nodding in acknowledgement. “Of course. Onions now, I presume.”

Abigail gave him an amused look. “As long as you don’t give me a lecture on them as well.”

Hannibal cocked his head, almost daring in the way he slyly curved his thin lips into a smile. “We’ll see then, won’t we?”

 

* * *

 

 

Will Graham nearly cried when he set foot in the shower.

He’d been warned- by both the nurses, his doctor, _and_ Hannibal that bathing should be monitored- or at least have somebody in the house- in case he slipped. But honestly, the idea of hot water on his skin was almost pornographic after so long with only one opportunity to clean hi skin.

Although being washed down with a warm damp cloth to remove the blood and debris of the accident didn’t much count in Will’s books.

The water pelted down, tinging his skin red as steam rose around him. He washed his hair twice, and then once more for good measure and was just as thorough at cleaning his body, careful not to hit any of the bruises or cuts.

He scrubbed at his skin till it was red raw, almost as if trying to wash the entire past events from his flesh, to peel it off and expose the meaty insides so that all was shown, no damage could penetrate him through soft flesh and leave a wound. Psychological or otherwise.

Beverly. Beverly was dead. No, not dead, technically _not_ , but she was.

Skin. Being penetrated with sharp points that left blood in a trail. Beverly being smashed into the wall- the glass. Will remembered the glass. He felt it in his palms under the skin or in the flesh of his temple. Blood was there too, hands read from it, hot drops of it raining down, leaving trails down his skin. Beverly’s blood. Or his. Both. Hands one his skin, grabbing and pulling and twisting as blood still pooled, now around his feet and into the drain.

An ear splitting scream, the sound of tires-

Will jerked back, sucking in a breath hard as he lost his footing, falling in a cascade of flailing limbs and warm water. Water. Just water. Not blood. Will shivered at the thought- he’d tuned out completely, standing under the water immobile while his thoughts continued on.

Instead of getting up, he just laid there, water pelting down onto his body. He felt a vague stinging on his palm and held it up. Two thing cuts line the center and he frowned in confusion. How had he got those? Probably during the fall. It didn’t matter. He raised it above his head to the water beat down on it directly so as to make sure it didn’t infect him.

Will wondered bitterly what would happen if he just napped here until Abigail and Hannibal returned. They’d obviously dislike that he’d done anything without them being there to help but frankly, will didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t know where it came from, the bitter defiance and gutter lack of hope, but he knew it was becoming poisonous and leaking into his every pore like a germ. Perhaps it was failure, perhaps his own stupidity and ego leading up to this moment where his talents would be remotely useless at saving the life of someone who meant so much to him.

Yeah, that could probably cover it.

He spent what was probably another ten minutes under the water, feeling it get progressively cooler and cooler under he heard a light scratching at the door followed by a whine. “Winston,” he called. “I’m fine.”

The scratching didn’t relent and Will groaned, closing his eyes. He forced himself to slowly move into a sitting position, his ribs screaming in agony. The barking and scratching didn’t end, not even when will turned off the tap and clambered out, drying himself down with a towel and pulling on fresh underwear and jeans. He was about to do the same with a t-shirt when he sighed, feeling bad for stressing his animal.

He opened the door to find Winston, as expected sitting in front, looking up at him in confusion. But it’s what he saw when he glanced up that made Will freeze. Blacker then the night itself and with dark raven feathers adorning its powerful neck, the stag reared its head up to look at Will, horns sharper than knives.

He slammed the door, pure instinct overriding anything as Winston howled, sensing Will’s sudden panic and renewing his scratching with all new vigor. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. His encephalitis was _gone,_ he took his medications regularly, and there was no possible way for a hallucination to get into his head like that.

Shaking, Will pressed his back to the door, sliding down it slowly to slump at the bottom as he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Winston remained outside the door, howling and scratching, and even then, it felt quiet as he heard the slow clatter of glassy hooves and the huffs of exhaled breath.

“Shut up.” He whispered in a cracked tone. “ _Please,_ shut up.”

But nothing would drown away the noise of the horrendous black nightmare lingering just outside the door.

 

* * *

 

 

“Just the chili sauce, hot sauce, and worcestershire sauce left.” Abigail said lightly, shifting their basket to her other arm to try and avoid the pressure the heaviness left.

“Would you prefer if I take that?” Hannibal questioned and Abigail glanced up at him before smiling and offering it to him. “Sure.”

They paced down past different isles, the entire store wasn’t large but extremely well organized, and so when Abigail noticed the different sauces at the edge of one, she instantly went into it.

“Do you think Will is alright?” he questioned as she gazed over the different titles and brands.

“Will is fully capable of taking care of himself, Abigail.” Hannibal said, turning his body slightly in her direction from where he’d stopped. “I think I should be questioning if you can.”

Abigail paused as well, eyes on an array of hot sauces. Will hadn’t said a specific type. She glanced up at Hannibal, confusion lining her face. “What do you mean?”

“Abigail you are clearly keeping something to yourself and it is bothering you.” Hannibal said calmly, his low rumble of a voice had taken on and edge he usually used specifically for patients. “You purposely sought out my assistance in the airport.” He paused then, letting his words take effect before asking. “Would you like to tell me what it is?”

Abigail worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her delicate hand reaching out for a bottle that her fingers merely traced the side of before dropping. Turning his face down, Abigail’s dark hair hid her face from view but the light shaking of his shoulders made it evident what was happening.

Hannibal did not touch her, did not speak or read out, let her brace herself before admission. When she straightens, she pushed her hair back into its proper place and glances at Hannibal with red eyes. “I,” she says, her voice incredibly steady. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Hannibal doesn’t reply, simply waits for her to continue- which she does. “Marissa and I… We didn’t spend the waiting time together. I stayed at home.”

“I presume something has happened between you and your friend.” Hannibal says and Abigail gives a derisive snort.

“We slept together.” It’s a bold statement, her tone flat and exhausted, almost like she was in a confessional with god himself. Hannibal found it oddly fitting. “It was on the first night back, it was stupid and i…”

Abigail broke off, running both fingers into her hair, a sign of how truly desperate she was. Hannibal had never seen her like this before and was actually quite _entertained_ by it. She turned to look at him with large, pained eyes. “I think I fucked up.”

“You love her.” Hannibal stated. “And she does not feel the same. At least not in the way you’d like.”

“It was ‘just sex’ for her.” Abigail said, “A quick lay with somebody she knew.”

“The truth hurt you.” Hannibal said, eyes slightly narrowed as he cocked his head, watching her reactions to the truth coming from somebody else’s lips. “And you have not spoken since.”

“She moved on.” Abigail said, her tone suddenly hollow. “It was easy for her. She’s seeing somebody and I’m still here picking up the pieces.”

Something cold riveted through Hannibal at the words. Perhaps the pain in them, or the simple fact Marissa was the aptitude of human repugnant, he was not sure, but it was the way Abigail looked up at him through wet lashes, her large eyes full of shame and embarrassment that sealed the fate of Marissa Schurr.

“I can’t tell Will.” She said, shaking her head. “I don’t want him to be worrying over me instead of himself.”

“Understandable. Will tends to be impulsive.” Hannibal replied. “Tell me Abigail, what to you except from your future with Ms. Marissa?”

“We’ll just go back to being friends I guess.” Abigail said, remorse in her tone as she investigated a medium sized bottle of hot sauce. “She seems to prefer it that way anyway.”

“And do you prefer it that way?” Hannibal questioned as Abigail placed the bottle into their basket.

“It doesn’t matter how I prefer it, Hannibal, what’s done is done and I can only blame myself. I’ve said ‘I told you so’ enough times in the last three days and nothing has changed. It’s best to let fate take the wheel.” She murmured quietly, not meeting Hannibal’s eyes, continuing to sate his dark intents.

“I am sure,” Hannibal said, reaching out to gently place his hand upon Abigail’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “That your problems will be solved soon enough.”

Abigail smiled sadly. “I’m not sure even god could fix these problems Hannibal, but thank you for believing in me.”

Despite what Abigail said, god could very well solve these problems, and even as they paced the small isle in search of worcestershire sauce, that he was concocting a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal u lil shit what are you planning. (We all know what he's planning)  
> I know most of you are pissed about Marissa, but you gotta remember, Abigail loves her a lot, so anything that happens to her... well, it's gonna come right back.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, i've needed to do this for a while. A interactive guide of Will Graham's scarring:  
> Alright, so starting on your upper left cheekbone, place your finger by the hairline where it starts. Now draw the finger along it, until you feel it end under the squishy skin beside your nose. That is where the main scarring is. Now, find the bottom palate of your eye, start at the inner corner and trace your finger along the bone you feel, it's sorta curved, the stitching there would end up to coenside with the thicker stitching of his cheek as well. Do the same with the upper palate of the eye, and it follows just under the brow bone. At the corner they meet and tie off, it's the same on the right just without the intervening of major cheek scarring.  
> Now, back to the fleshy part of your cheek beside your nose where the cheekbone ends, place your finger there, slightly below, and pull up just enough to fee the corner of you upper lip ride up a bit. Although it feels like there is excess skin under the eye when you do that, there isn't on Will because it contributed to the stitching and operation.  
> Congrats, you now know what Will Graham's face looks like.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The death of Marissa Schurr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT, so this is very VERY short and that's because this has "assisted suicide" in it. I know that suicide (Even if it's really a blanket for murder in this case) is a trigger for some people, as is cutting. Therefore i decided no matter how short it is, it is having it's own "chapter" so people don't have to read it to feel like they're missing out. You're not.
> 
> SO; *Trigger warnings for; Cutting, Suicide*
> 
> If you want a description of the chapter but you know you cannot read it, just go to the notes at the bottom.

 

Marissa Schurr made it very easy for herself to be a target.

Bold, brass, and rather stupid, the girl hadn’t the very thought of her own safety, whether it be from friends or foes, her irrational decisions and actions made it impeccably clear that not once had she ever thought herself to be the target of someone’s tedious intentions. If it was to be put nicely. Her home was not hard to find, Abigail had a contacts list attached to the fridge of her and Will's home. A quick glance and he'd been set.

Even as Hannibal stood at her street corner, head ducked and cigarette lit between his thin lips, the girl wandered boldly it not slightly tipsy, past him as if he wasn’t there or even a threat, the stench of cheap alcohols and flowery perfume clung to her like a child to their mother, making Hannibal unconsciously grimace. Hannibal watched her stumble up to her home and couldn’t help but wonder if Abigail would do the same. The predictable answer was no, she was the type of girl to stay on defense in situations such as this, which had made her such a good companion to Marissa. Will had taught her well.

The thought sent another surge of boiling anger through him. Marissa was a despicable person and from the very moment he first saw her he knew. At first Hannibal had had half a mind to let her live on, an idea further persuaded by Abigail’s longing stares in hopes that perhaps the young girl would get what she wished, but now completely gone in the light of the foul heartbreak pressed upon her. 

In Hannibal’s mind, Abigail had all but given him permission to crush the flickering flame of Marissa’s life like a bug when she had told him with teary eyes and a small voice of how she wished that it hadn't come out that way. Her large eyes had seemed too sad even as she hid it emotionally, and had left Hannibal with a cold feeling, an emotion so dark and tormenting that he practically felt nothing at all.

He did not know why he felt so protective of the girl, perhaps it was because he was protective of Will, or maybe it was the way she moved and smiled, how she shone of intelligence and spirit in a way he hadn’t seen in many, _many_ years.

Marissa would be home alone that night, Hannibal had to say it was sheer luck, but he took it as a sign of what he was about to do was meant to happen. He wondered how Abigail would take the news. Would he be there when it happened? When she received a call and came bursting into the room with tears down her rosy cheeks? Or perhaps he’d be called, by either her or Will, minutes, hours, or even a day later to inform him, and he would play his role of the somber and gentle caretaker and assure them that he was there for support.

The longer he mulled, the longer he stood leaning against the lamppost that illuminated only part of the dark and quiet streets, with a dully glowing cigarette between two fingers, it was another minute Marissa had for her life. It was a feeling of control, of _power,_ to know that the only reason she was given these minutes was because of Hannibal. He was in control of her fate, and only he. Marissa was yet to know it.

With a flick of his slender fingers, Hannibal let the cigarette fall to the ground. He was no objectionable to smoking, but it was not something he generally went for unless for blending in or to ensure casual conversation. He wondered, vaguely, if Will smoked.

Hannibal was pleased to find the front door was locked, indicating that she at least knew to do that. He debated knocking and saying that Abigail had forgotten something, but that would bring up questions he did not want to answer.

Instead, he slid around to the back of the house, completely unseen in the darkness. The scaling of the fence was easy and quick, no animals in the area to bark or hiss at the sight of an unfriendly figure. Hannibal walked calmly through the powdering of snow, hands in his pockets. The back door was unlocked, something he’d expected.

Water was running somewhere in the house, not far from where he’d come in. A bath perhaps? Hannibal’s lips curled into a pleased smile at the thought, an interesting twist in his plans but one that will add a flair of dramatics no doubt.

Hannibal’s footfalls are silent, having slid his shoes off and left them upon the matt by the door so as to avoid any noise. The home is easy to navigate, and having entered into the kitchen, gave him the opportunity to find a switch blade. He had brought his own naturally, as well as small towel soaked with enough chloroform that it was effective but would not leave much of scent evidence.

A red multi-tool contained a blade, inch in length and perfect for what he had planned. Sliding it into his pocket, Hannibal continued his path over the warm carpet.

He was about to slide into the hallway when the girl passed through between two rooms, a bathrobe tied around her as she entered what he presumed to be the bathroom, humming along with a song she’d put on her phone.

It was almost too easy to creep up upon her, the rush of water and the music a perfect cover. Hannibal stood directly in the doorway, watching as she crouched to check the water. How he wished he could surprise her, see her eyes widen in recognition before and attempted scream for help- but not this time.

It was almost too easy, approaching softly behind her, wrapping one arm tightly around her with the other pressed the towel up over her mouth and nose. She thrashed wildly, a high pitched noise muffled by the towel as Hannibal held her fast and tight, waiting for her limbs to slump and her head to loll to the side.

He made quick work, deciding the quicker he left the better, no matter how much he wanted to savor the destruction of her pitiful life. Removing the bathrobe, he placed her into the tub without even a strain of muscle. Crouching beside her, Hannibal unfolded the thin synthetic gloves and pulled them onto his hands, which he then used to take Marissa’s wrist and set it upon the edge of the tub steadily.

Hannibal had originally planned to hang the girl, but when an opportunity arises he could not help but take advantage of it. After all, the girl had a history of cutting upon herself, so it would add a creative flair to the whole thing.

Taking the girl’s other hand, he gently unfolded the multi-tool he’d taken from the kitchen and placed it into her palm before guiding her hand with his own to her bared wrist when he held against the edge of the tub. It was a pity she wasn’t awake to feel the pain, but he fully intended to make it so if she did awake, it was only to see her own unstoppable death.

The blade sunk through flesh easily, starting mid forearm and cutting, long and deep, vertically upward to her wrist, the blade scratching upon bone lightly. Marissa gave a light moan and blood flooded out of the wound, but did not wake.

Hannibal debated for a second if the other arm was necessary, if this was an actual suicide, she would be shaking as she cut the other, something he could not recreate properly. He let it slide, knowing that it would not be long until the youth died.

Releasing her hand, he watched as the blade slid into the water and sank to the bottom, much like the blood running down the edge of the tub into the water. Hannibal still couched by the tub, watching the twitches of her muscles as blood escaped the wound.

Eventually, the flow slowed, her skin appearing greyer as the emptying veins stood clear. The slow rise and fall of her chest stopped as Marissa Schurr’s breathing slowed, and eventually, stopped.

Marissa Schurr was dead, Hannibal’s work complete. He stood, unrolling his gloves and placing them back into his pocket. He combed the room and the rest of the home for anything to be considered evidence, although he doubts they would look for any. It was very _obviously_ a suicide.

Sliding on his shoes, Hannibal left the home with a gentle click, climbed back over the fence, and onto the sidewalk, placing his hands into his pockets. Hands that had moments ago killed a girl.

Slender fingers found the second cigarette he’d packed, and the lighter joined his fingers also. He lit it, took a drag.

Kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As i said above, if you cannot read this chapter, i'd explain it: Hannibal sneaks into Marissa's home (sneaky lil thing) and knocks her unconscious before proceeding to make her death look like a suicide and leaves her body there for whoever to find. He does this because he feels like Abigail gave him permission to. From this point on there will be mentions of suicide, but not any content of it or cutting after this.
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter done soon! Hannibal is such trash he makes dumpsters look sparkly, so...


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will says goodbye to Beverly Katz; Abigail makes a discovery that will forever break her heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well, get the black on kids because we say a sweet farewell to Ms. Beverly Katz this chapter. It's for the best, but it basically fucks Will up.
> 
> I can promise the next chapter? It's not going to get better. No getting your hopes up. But just to throw y'all a bone i might have Hannibal and Will finally do the sideways tango in the next chapter. MAYBE.
> 
> There is some homophobic content at the end, very little though.
> 
> UBETA'D and i;m sorry for any mistakes; per usual.

The heart monitor beeps slowly, like a reassurance.

It was no more reassuring then the machine slowly pumping air in and out of Beverly Katz’s lungs as she lay in the stark white hospital room that smelt of disinfectants and ever so slightly of the undeniable stench of death. Will stood in front of the door, having walked in only a step before stopping.

He leaned heavily against the crutch that was soon to be replaced for a cane that he’d need permanently, but even as he stared down at the form of Beverly, it felt like nothing compared to her. She was almost unrecognizable, even with her head turned to the side for the tubes down her throat, you could see her mutated flesh and where is had begun to knit back together, although it was very little compared to the rest of her body.

Will had read the report, listened to the doctors, seen the pictures. It didn’t matter.

Beverly Katz was announced as brain dead, and Will could do nothing.

In his free hand Will held a small paper star which he rubbed his thumb against, something Beverly had taught him to fold a few years ago as a way to relieve stress. Will wanted to smile at the thought of how she’d still be helping him one in the grave. And as he moved the small star between his battered fingers, he thought over the fact that she’d never be there again, by his side. To lead him away from a crime scene to ask how he was when he looked sick, or to call him at ridiculous times to get a coffee or a drink so she could vent about her ex, to watch stay with Abigail when Will was away, or when she would send him text reminders to take his medication.

A complete mother hen, Beverly had been.

But now she was gone.

Will remembered one of their last conversations before they’d gotten into that car which sealed their fates. Beverly had grabbed his wrist upon seeing it as he’d reached forward for a paper, pulling back the sleeve to show his pale wrist and the slight purple-red mark Hannibal had left there before he’d left, not quite faded.

She’d teased him naturally, all glittering eyes and wicked smiles. _“What is this I see, Graham? Bruise yourself_?” she’d asked mischievously. Will had attempted not to indulge her, pulling his wrist away and remaining stoic. “ _It’s exactly what you think it is Beverly. Could you pass me that map?”_

 _“Very naughty Will, I’m trusting that’s from Hannibal and you’re not flushing your relationship down the drain.”_ She’d replied jokingly as she passed the map, and Will had stared blankly at her.

 _“I doubt there is anyone else in the world who would take an interest in me, Bev.”_ Will had replied sarcastically and Beverly had snorted, _“Are you saying Hannibal is weird then?”_

Will had stayed quiet for a few minutes, but her staring did not relent and he sighed, setting the map flat against the table in the interrogation room they were using for their geographic profile. _“Yes.”_

 _“Describe him to me.”_ She’d said, not asking him but telling him as she sipped from her third mug of coffee. There was a few littered around Will as well.

“ _Beverly_.” Will had said in light irritation. “ _We’re working.”_

Waving a hand dismissively before taking out her phone and tapping away into the search engine, Beverly brushed off Will’s statement with easy grace. Will had frowned in confusion as she had and turned back to his own map, only to be poked on the arm to get a return of his attention- she turned the phone towards him with a picture of Hannibal, elegant as ever, displayed on screen.

“ _Beverly,”_ Will had scolded, face flushed instantly. “ _Where did you even find that_?”

“ _It’s an article about successful psychiatry methods in the Baltimore area_.” She’d said, grinning at the picture again before adding thoughtfully, “ _You never mentioned how beautiful he is_.”

Will had stuttered out in protest but Beverly instead started talking about how _dreamy_ Hannibal’s eyes were, taunting Will mercilessly as he’d put his face into his hands, hiding how it had gone bright pink, the color spreading through his neck and ears.

They’d had all the time in the world then.

And now he stood, weeks later, staring at the body that had once contained Beverly Katz.

Beverly Katz who had felt as paternal for Abigail as Will had, who was always there to cheer someone up- who’d made him promise to spend some alone time with his ‘lover boy’ once they’d finished the case. Who’d told him barely a half hour before their accident that she’d wanted children, a little girl to carry on the Katz name, to come home to as a reminder that there was good in the world when she spent so much time at work surrounded by darkness.

Tears threatened his eyes and Will didn’t stop them, letting them slip down his face, causing a slight sting in the damaged skin of his still healing stitches- He ignored it. His pain was nothing compared to that of Beverly, but even then, she couldn’t feel it.

The real reason Will’s visiting here was not to stand in the doorway and revisit fond memories- it was a much sadder purpose, one that had both Hannibal and Abigail offering to attend with him as support. He’d declined.

It was Will’s last chance to say goodbye.        

Beverly’s family had decided to ‘pull the plug’, a decision they made was best to do now that their Hanukkah was finished. They’d clung onto the hope that maybe she would wake, but it seems that the hopelessness had finally taken its part. They’d given up.

Beverly’s mother wasn’t able to come from what he’d heard, she couldn’t face it, but Beverly’s two younger siblings would be here within minutes, giving Will a short amount of time due to how much he’d spent wasting.

Moving himself forward gingerly, wincing when too much weight was pressed onto his injured leg, he stopped beside her bed and look down upon her. There was no way to describe the damage done to her, smashes against the wall so quickly, trapped in the car as the EMTs and FBI agents scrambled in attempt to get them out.

Part of her hair was shaven away- she’d always loved her hair. – and showed a long scar upon her head from where it had collided with the window and brick beside her. She’d had no chance of coming out of this whole.

Reaching out gently, as if he could startle her, Will gently placed his palm over her hand, fighting the coldness that seemed to have pooled into his body. “Beverly,” he finally said, voice hoarse. He gave a weak smile, a forced thing as she shook his head and downcast his eyes. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s my fault.” He continued, gently squeezing her unresponsive hand. “Or at least I want to say it is. I have no reason to think that. We were both acting on our positioned and somehow…” he trailed off breathless. He heaved a sigh that made his healing ribs sting. “Somehow it got us both hurt.”

He paused again, thinking of something to say. He didn’t know what. He grinned weakly down at her, eyes bright with a memory he could remember fondly. “Like that one thanksgiving you came over, and we tried to make a turkey.” He snorted aloud and shook his head. They’d ended up burning it as much as they had burned themselves. “You ended up making the best mash potatoes I’d ever tasted and we drank beer on my couch.”

His smile suddenly turned sad again. “Our actions lead to us sitting on the couch. So I guess that relates?”

No answer. He swallowed.

Will felt stupid, having nothing to say yet still talking to the body that would not respond. He pretended for a second that the warm he felt of Beverly’s skin was because she would be awake any second, calling him some atrocious nickname and trying to ruffle his hair.

Her body remained warm, but she was gone.

“I’m sorry.” Will choked out. “It should’ve been me.”

Finally he said it, the words that had weighed on him since the accident had happened. Hell, it wasn’t even an _accident-_ that bastard plowed his car into theirs, and now Beverly was gone. He’d never admitted how he felt to Abigail or Hannibal, knowing how they’d insist that wasn’t true, but it _was_ true. Will wanted to explain it some way, that one of his actions had lead them here. He’d thought pensively over the man who’d smoked cigarettes in the alley, who’d ‘warned’ him, but even that made no sense.

Will’s life was a joke, and this accident had been the fucking _punchline_.

He decided to leave the room and wait for Beverly’s siblings, to see if it was alright for him to be present, although he doubted they’d refuse him. He wasn’t sure long how he stood there, but was pulled out of his reverie, a female and male that fic Beverly’s characteristics were approaching with a doctor and nurse in tow. Will could’ve sworn the girl had Beverly’s smile.

They shook hands, shared sad expressions hidden behind closed features, and they both agreed it was be find for him to be there. When they entered the room, Will stood directly beside the door, wanting space in the suddenly claustrophobic room.

This was it. The sudden weight of what was happened dropped itself onto his ribcage almost crushingly, making it hard to breathe. Will watched with blind eyes as the papers on the clipboard were signed, and the doctor gave his condolences. And then, they started the process.

The air was first to be shut off and removed, leaving the nurse holding a slow hand operated breathing system, squeezing the bag as the other machines were turned off, the heart monitor started to slow, the beats of her heart farther apart, and finally the nurse stopped creating the falsifying breathes and pulled away.

Beverly’s sister sobbed and clung to her brother who stared with teary eyes as Beverly flat lined, and then that too, was shut off. Will had slid out quickly, no noise and catching nobody’s attention. Taking a deep breath of the thin hospital air, he sudden felt like he might faint, spots flicking in front of his eyes and his lungs worked to quickly for air. He picked up his pace.

When he exited the hospital, he staggered, nearly hunched over as he gasped for breath, hot tears leaking from the corner of his eyes- whether from sadness or from the stress put upon his body, he didn’t know. He felt delicate and it disgusted him, but not as much as the Calling Card Killer did.

Will Graham wanted blood, he could taste it on his tongue and the backs of his teeth and he wished he could sink his fingers into the flesh of the mans’ face and rip it straight from his body, to carve him up in a worthy masterpiece that shows just how disgusting he was on the inside as the outside.

Pushing the sudden grisly thoughts aside, Will regained control of himself, falling back into his mindset of the previous days and wiped his cheeks free of tears before steadily making his way to his car, parked not far from the front door due to sheer luck. He was actually tempted to look into a handicap parking card seeing as he’d been told already he was officially eligible.

 The longer he walked the more _everything_ hurt and more pitiful stares he got over his disfigured face and obvious limp. It was hard not to loathe what he saw in the mirror when he was being made to feel like some sort of freak.

Although Hannibal seemed to be doing his best to counteract that.

 

* * *

 

 

Abigail worried for Will.

Today was the day that Beverly was taken off life support. The day she died. The cloud that seemed to have been following Will around seemed darker that day. The most he’d spoken that morning was to say no to both Abigail and Hannibal’s offer to go with him, a curt grunted answer.

Hannibal had been staying with Abigail and Will, his reasoning being his experience as a doctor and psychiatrist is an aid to Will, but they both knew it was more a sensual form of comfort. Something Will needs seeing as he’d become almost robotic. Get up, spend a half hour in the shower, drink coffee, pick at whatever Hannibal attempts to feed him for breakfast, sit on the couch and stare blankly at the TV, skip lunch, takes his medication and follows them with a finger of whiskey when Hannibal isn’t looking, does his routine work out for regaining full use of his leg, eat some of his dinner, and go to bed.

Abigail and Hannibal tried everything they could to intervene, to try and get him to go for a walk or to hold a conversation, but he was like a blank canvas.

Two days ago, when Will had made the Brunswick Stew for dinner, Abigail and Hannibal had talked consistently, attempting to draw him into conversation to no avail. Abigail had to admit, Will’s strong point in cooking revolved around frying fish and clicking buttons on a microwave, but the meal had been fantastic and even Hannibal had agreed. Will had barely ate any of his and had gone to bed early.

And now today he was saying goodbye to Beverly.

Last night had been tense, Hannibal had vanished after dinner for a while, and Abigail figured it was an appointment with a patient, leaving Abigail alone with Will. Unfortunately, Will took advantage of Hannibal not being there to have some whiskey- something he was _not_ supposed to do whilst on his medication, but when she tried to get herself to stop him, she couldn’t.

Now the next day, Hannibal had noticed the bottle on the corner of the fireplace mantel was significantly emptier and had pinned her with a knowing look. She’d shrugged weakly and turned away. If the only way for Will to drown his pain was with alcohol then shit, she wasn’t going to be the one who stopped them.

But now even Abigail had a problem on her hands, the day before yesterday she’d talked to Marissa and planned to go to her place, an attempt to make up for the awkwardness that had followed their brief night of intimacy. She had to swallow her pride and her overwhelming embarrassment as she decided what to wear- simple jeans and a lavender and blue plaid shirt. Her scarf was pink with small birds upon it, something Marissa had given her.

Hannibal was sat upon their couch as Abigail came down the stairs, he had a copy of what appeared to be Will’s copy of “ _A Single Man_ ” by Christopher Isherwood, something Abigail had been meaning to read.

Hannibal looks up when Abigail came down the stairs, gently marking his page and closing the book. “May I ask where you are going?”

“Marissa and I have planned to meet up today.” She said, somewhat bashfully as she retrieved her jacket. More snow had fallen last night and there was a bite to the air. Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“If you need anything, you know to call.” Hannibal said with a small smile, something about his tone tipped off Abigail- did he know something? What was there else to even know. Abigail nodded. “Could you let Will know where I’ve gone.”

Even has Hannibal agreed, they both knew it wouldn’t matter much, Abigail would be lucky if he even noticed she was gone. With one last smile and a slight wave, Abigail took her keys and bag and left. Her time behind the wheel of her car give her time to feel progressively more nervous. Could she hug her friend when he walked? Or would that be weird? Would they _ever_ have normal interaction again?

As she pulled up, she noticed Marissa’s car was the only one in the driveway, meaning her cousin was probably out for a while again, giving them privacy to talk.

Abigail nearly skipped in anticipation of seeing her best friend again, knocking excitedly at the door and waiting for the response. When none came, she tried again. Then again.

A frown pressing her face, Abigail went for the spare key, kept between two bricks, and unlocked the door. It could very well be that Marissa was in the shower, or sleeping, haven forgotten about their meetup.

“Marissa?” Abigail called as she gently shut the door behind her and set her purse on the side table. “It’s Abigail.”

No response. Strange.

Wandering through the small living room past the stairs to the bedrooms, Abigail walked into the kitchen and looked around with a frown. She didn’t hear the shower running, nor the blow dryer. Retracing her steps, Abigail went up the stairs and checked Marissa’s room. Nothing.

A new feeling of panic swelling inside her, she went back down the stairs- where was she? Had she hurt herself perhaps? Or maybe she’d just walked out to the small corner store?

Abigail paused, listening for anything. She could’ve sworn she heard a drip of water. Frowning, she walked towards the bathroom door, partially closed, almost carelessly. The air suddenly smelt off, almost like vinegar, and with her heart clenched, Abigail gently pushed the door open. “Marissa?”

Her heart stopped. Time stopped. Life stopped.

Blood, dried against the floor and the sides of the tub, an arm laying against the ledge was the only thing in sight. A breathless “no,” escaped Abigail’s lungs as she hurtled towards the tub, filled with red water. “oh no, _no_.”

She wasted no time in pushing her sleeves up, instantly on her knees and sticking her hands into the water, feeling them make contact with waterlogged flesh. Pulling hard, she dragged the limp figure out of the tub with a great heave and splash of water, and right onto her lap.

The flesh was grey, ugly, the skin starting to bloat, but even this, there was no doubt it was Marissa. She’s slide under the surface some time during the night. A pitiful wail burst from Abigail as shaking hands pushed waterlogged hair from her friend’s face.

“Marissa? _Marissa please_.” Abigail begged pointlessly. She was dead, undeniably so seeing how large the gash was upon her arm. _Suicide? No._ “Marissa,” Abigail choked. “Why? Why would you…”

It had gotten better. _She_ had gotten better. And she was dead, forearm split like a knife through butter. Abigail made no move to get up, or grab her phone. She sat, hopeless, gently stroking the dark hair from her friends’ eyes. Whether this was perverse or not, she didn’t care, Marissa was dead. Her Marissa.

Ducking her head, she pressed her forehead against Marissa’s clammy one. “I’m sorry.” She whispered as her entire chest ached. This was _her_ fault. She knew it was. Everything had been fine until they’d fallen into bed together, until she acted on her feelings like a stupid child.

She barely could comprehend what she was dong, sitting here, soak and wet with the corpse of her best friend lain upon her legs. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to get her phone or even shift in the slightest. She deserved to sit here, cold and wet, and face what she’d done.

Abigail suddenly understood what Will felt when he would come how from work with broken eyes and a sad smile. He’d feel guilt, for deaths that weren’t even his fault but still felt in some way they were because he watched himself do it.

Although, this _was,_ undeniably, Abigail’s fault.

 

* * *

 

 

Hannibal was barely effected when Will came into the house twenty minutes after Abigail’s departure, simply glancing up at him and giving him a smile while he set his keys aside and kicked off his shoes.

What did surprise Hannibal, was when Will approached him and laid his crutch against the coffee table before sitting down next to Hannibal and, after a moment, pressing into his side and laying his head upon Hannibal’s shoulder.

Will has been detached, unemotional, and suddenly here he was, seeking comfort from Hannibal. Using this thumb at the base of spin to keep his book open, Hannibal reached his other arm around Will gently. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Can you read to me?” Will murmured, eyes closed and muscles strained.

“Certainly.” Hannibal said without question. His point was not to aggress or upset Will but to once again make him pliable, pressing him would not be a good step.

 _“This isn't at all like their drunkenness at The Starboard Side.”_ Hannibal began calmly, picking up where he left off _. “Kenny and he are no longer in the symbolic dialogue-relationship; this new phase of communication is very much person-to-person. Yet, paradoxically, Kenny seems farther away, not closer; he has receded far beyond the possible limits of an electric field. Indeed, it is only now and then that George can see him clearly, for the room has become dazzlingly bright, and Kenny's face keeps fading into the brightness. Also, there is a loud buzzing in George's ears, so loud that he can't be certain if Kenny answered his question or not.-”_

“Are you reading what I think you are?” Will murmured, unmoving, but his tone had taken on a joking, sarcastic edge that made a smile curl Hannibal’s features.

“Perhaps,” He replied dryly. “If you think it is _A Single Man_ from your literacy collection from your bedroom.”

Will huffed, a barely noticeable smile on his face. Hannibal leaned down to peck him atop the head before asking, “May in continue?”

Will made a noise which seemed to mean he was inviting Hannibal to continue, so he did. Inhaling deeply, he quickly found his previous spot and began again.

_“You needn't say anything," George tells Kenny (thus dealing with either possibility), “because I admit it—oh, hell, yes, of course I admit it—I am a dirty old man. Ninety-nine per cent of all old men are dirty. That is, if you want to talk that language; if you insist on that kind of dreariness. I'm not protesting against what you choose to call me or don't. I'm protesting against an attitude—and I'm only doing that for your sake, not mine.-”_

Will snorted suddenly and Hannibal sighed lightly. “It is rude to interrupt you know.”

“I can’t help but thinking,” Will said, tone laced with mirth. “That you are calling yourself a dirty old man.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal asked, brows raised slightly at the younger man who nuzzled into the warm fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, sitting with his legs braced upon the couch beside him so that he was fully pressed into Hannibal’s side. The smile upon Hannibal’s face widened. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, Will?”

“Nothing other than you are at very least _my_ dirty old man.” Will teased gently, biting onto his bottom lip as he grinned. Hannibal rumbled with laughter, and Will could feel it travel under his skin.

Their humor was short lived as Will’s phone suddenly went off, chiming loudly as it vibrated upon the table where he’d left it. With a huff of annoyance, he leaned forward to retrieve it before settling back against Hannibal. “Hello?”

Hannibal heard the faint rush of a female voice upon the other line as Will went stock still, eyes widening almost comically, he suddenly jerked into an upright position. “Slow down Abigail.” He said smoothly, although he looks ready to puke.

“Do you need us to come get you?” _Us._ It was a very intimate move in Hannibal’s opinion and it made him want to smile, although in this situation his appearance must read one of confusion for now, so he kept it that way.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon.” Will said, voice wavering slightly. He was about to hang on when something Abigail said made him stop. He nodded, biting own onto his bottom lip until the flesh turned white. “I love you too, Abigail. I’ll be there soon. It’ll be okay.”

Finally he hung up, ducking his head into his hands and taking a shaky breath before speaking aloud. “Marissa killed herself. Abigail is being taken to the police station so they can get her statement.” He swallowed before turning his face up from his palms and finally looks over his shoulder over to Hannibal, meeting the maroon gaze steadily. “She saw her dead body, Hannibal.”

“I infer that you see that as negative.” Hannibal said, setting the book aside and sitting forward beside Will.

Will gave a semi hysterical and disbelieving laugh. “Why wouldn’t I? She’s too _young,_ Hannibal. She shouldn’t have to live with something like this.”

“And yet she is going to have to,” Hannibal said calmly. “For the rest of her life she will remember this.”

“You’re not helping.” Will said, that slightly manic grin on his face that contemplated the panic in his eyes. Hannibal loved Will like this, and it was all he could do to ignore the coil of heat into his abdomen from the sight.

“Besides,” Will said suddenly. “We need to meet her at the police station. By the time we get there they’ll be finished.”

“Very well. I shall drive then.” Hannibal said, pushing himself up and offering one immaculate hand out to Will, who stared at him in surprise.

“You don’t have to come.” Will said blandly. It was very obvious what he meant by it; _She’s my responsibility, not yours._ Hannibal gave him a thin smile.

“In case you have forgotten you are not supposed to be driving.” Hannibal said as he helped Will to his feet. He leaned purposely into Will to get his crutch from where it was leaning against the table beside him.  

“I did fine on my own this morning.” Will grumbled, a heady blush seeping across his neck and into his cheeks. Hannibal raised his brows, in this close proximity, Will was practically putty in his hands, completely suggestible and awkward. “Besides,” he said, swallowing audibly. “You didn’t try to stop me then.”

“Simply because when you are depressed you are extremely unreasonable it becomes pointless to attempt any conversation least of all an argument.” Hannibal said passively, straightening the lapels of Will’s jacket before meeting his eyes and smiling. “Therefore, I am driving.”

“Fine.” Will grumbled, taking and hesitant step back. “But we need to go now.”

“Quite understandable, I shall lead the way.” Hannibal said simply, passing Will and only lightly brushing against him so that he’d shiver slightly. Sliding into his shoes and rubbing the smallest bit of dust off the edge, Hannibal straightened and waited for Will to lumber over and forcibly jam his own feet into his boots with a wince before opening the door and waiting for Hannibal to exit.

Will was rowdy, energetic even, desperate to reach his Abigail quickly so as to act as her comfort, although once he was in Hannibal’s Bentley he seemed stiff and on edge. Hannibal presumed it was the same reason that he’d been so uptight in Hannibal’s home.

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile in the slightest as he mulled over the thought that because of this car, and his parking it in a certain spot every day, he and Will had met. It was interesting. Reaching forward, Hannibal tapped the radio on and let soft classical music spread through the vehicle. Will stared at him for a second before turning back to the window, a small smile upon his face.

By the time they’d reached the police station in the center of Wolf Trap, Will was bouncing his leg impatiently and chewing on the side of his thumb. It’d taken a total of thirty four minutes to get there, the cold weather and length of the drive making it a few minutes longer than usual.

Will was out of Hannibal’s car quickly, stumbling as he did so and nearly falling if not for his crutch. Hannibal resisted making an aggravated noise as she quickly locked his car and followed Will into the front lobby of the small station.

There was no queue for the front desk, which was preferable seeing as Hannibal was sure Will would’ve pushed everyone aside as walked straight to the front. “Abigail Hobbs.” Will said instantly before the woman could get a word in. “I need to know where she is?”

Hannibal placed a hand onto Will’s back as a calmly message before smiling to the disgruntled woman at the counter. “She recently came in to give a statement about the suicide of Marissa Schurr?”

“Do you have any blood relation to Mrs. Hobbs?” The lady officer questioned with slightly narrowed eyes. Will looked ready to rip out his hair in frustration. “We’re her fathers,” he snapped impatiently, taking Hannibal by a momentary surprise, which he either ignored or did not noticed as he rushed on to ask. “Now may we _please_ see her?”

The woman pursed her lips, hands on the counter between them as she stared him down, looking for a lie. Finally she sighed and started to shuffle and restack some papers. “I’m sorry sire, she left nearly twenty minutes ago.”

“Left? Where, with who?” Will demanded instantly, his voice raising an octave.

The woman look at him with tired and impatient eyes. “I don’t know sir, she simply left the building. Probably got a cab if you’re worried about who was supposed to drive her.” She said dryly before adding. “I probably would too, can’t imagine someone like you behind the wheel is exactly safe.”

Will glared at her, his ridden upper lip curled slightly, making the scarring that pulled at it all the more intimidating. As much as Hannibal wanted to see Will rip into this women like he noticed Will was tempted to, he instead asked, “May we speak to the officer who took her statement? He perhaps might know.”

The woman turned his annoying gaze onto him, and with great reluctance called out; “Ted, some folks need to speak to you!”

It was truly a statement of how small that building was that Hannibal heard jogging steps before a man in his mid-thirties rounded the corner and took in the sight of Will and Hannibal. His eyes shot up when he took a look at Will’s mangled scar tissue, but the only comment he made was a breathless “Woah,” followed by, “Can I help you gents?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, turning to speak to the man- Ted, he believed- as the secretary banged her stapler unnecessarily loud between a stack of papers. “Before Abigail Hobbs left, did she say where she was going?”

“Well,” Ted replied awkwardly, hands on his hips and mouth in an open, awkward smile as he searched for words. His reply was slow as he looked between Hannibal’s rumpled clothes and Will’s mangled features and crutch. “Who’s asking?”

“Her parents.” Will said immediately, a quick cast of eyes up to Hannibal’s direction, silently telling him not to deny it; that an explanation would be given but not at that moment. Hannibal didn’t need an explanation, in fact he didn’t mind being put into a position of parental authority when it came to the young Hobbs.

“ _You’re_ her parents.” The man said with a sudden laugh, looking between the two as if expecting a joke before suddenly realizing they were very serious. His face dropped, something twisting in his gaze as his mouth set into a frown of disapproval. “She didn’t mention anything about…”

“About what, Mr. Ted?” Hannibal said, his tone a positive delight as he leaned in slightly, head cocked to the side and smile in place, although his eyes were narrowed in a distinctive warning.

“That her parents were coming to pick her up.” He said instead, scrambling away from anything that could very well get his nose bitten off. “She left, ‘bout twenty minutes ago.”

“Did she say where?” Will said, brows pressed together and concern in his voice.

“Nope, but she did say something about cleaning up a mess.” The man said, shrugged.

“Thank you.” Will said, although he didn’t sound like he meant it. But before they could leave Hannibal put on his most polite face and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have a business card, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You go Hannibal, take that mans' card and make pad thai outta his dumb ass.
> 
> I'm sorry, i'm a horrible, sadistic human being but honestly Digestivo was like Mizumono all over again so we're all in agony anyway. 
> 
> 'A Single Man' is actually a fantastic book. All the books i mention in this fic are. They also all contain homoerotic content and are CLASSICS. Will and Hannibal team weird-queer classic books.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal reminds Will he isn't alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the shittiest person for not updating in forever i am SO sorry. This chapter is pretty damn long and finally- FINALLY - has smut. Which is why it took so long, i kept getting flustered and embarrassed and could barely write a paragraph without nearly having a heart attack.  
> Turns out all i needed to was use my phone from 10:39pm to 2:56am, because i was completely lack of emotions while writing it. First time writing smut, so.
> 
> Anyway, unbeta'd (which will probably haunt me forever) and still awkward.

Will wasted no time after that.

He instantly knew that Marissa’s home was where Abigail would be, and it wasn’t a far drive. Will gave hurried instructions, heart beating quickly with no explanation, and Hannibal pretended it was his first time hearing them. They took a hard turn onto Marissa’s street, and Will was out of the car before the vehicle had even stopped properly.

He jogged up the driveway, something that nearly caused his injured leg to collapse under him due to his lack of crutch, but Will didn’t care, the pain was motivation. Panic overwhelmed him, he knew he shouldn’t be worried, that Abigail was okay and he knew where she was, but he _didn’t_ know and he was allowed to be scared.

He realized, momentarily, that it was a parental instinct that was controlling him. Practically _maternal_ if Will had to describe the panic in his gut.

Will reached the door, knocked, jiggled the doorknob, knocked again, more of a slam really. He heard Hannibal approaching quickly behind him, heard him call his name as the still glowing lights of the Bentley cast his shadow over the door.

“Abigail?” He shouted instead as Hannibal came to a stop behind him and exhaled deeply, whether from exasperation or because he was winded, Will could care less. “Abigail it’s Will, open up.”

“Will.” Hannibal said, placing a stern hand on Will’s shoulder and wheeling him around to face him. His face was serious, concern and impatience etched in its creases. “You cannot do that again, you will evade your proper healing even more.”

“I don’t care,” Will said, voice completely lacking emotion yet full of it at the same time, positively shaking from it.

“Will,” Hannibal said suddenly, his hand leaving Will’s shoulder as he turned. The sudden sincerity in his voice was enough to drag Will’s attention away for a split second.

On the bench beside the door was an envelope, the type that was typically used to make deposits into bank machines, although Will highly doubted there would be a check in it. In red pan, his name had been written upon its blank side.

Will turned bodily towards Hannibal, a crease between his brows. “Hannibal,” He said, voice wavering slightly. “What’s that?”

“I believe this is left for you.” He replied calmly, offering the envelope to Will, who stared at it in blank confusion. Hannibal continued to hold it out to him and Will continued to stare, finally, Hannibal said gently, “ _Will.”_

Snapping out of his reverie, Will met Hannibal’s eyes and tugged the envelope from the offered hand. He didn’t not look away from Hannibal until he’d pried it open with his fingers and slid the paper from it. Unfolding it, he watched his own fingers, using them to ground him. He was there, Hannibal was there, Abigail wasn’t, Marissa was dead, and this is all _real._

It wasn’t particularly long, written in Abigail’s loose handwriting, but even as Will’s eyes ran over her words, his heart seemed to slow to a grinding stop. His fingers shook slightly and he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from doing the same.

Folding the letter back up gently, he pressed it back into Hannibal’s surprised hand. “She’s gone.” He said lamely, sitting down onto the bench the letter had been placed onto, although it seemed like a stance of defeat, it was mostly the pain of his still healing bones that dragged him down.

Hannibal had taken Will’s gesture as an invitation, and began to unfolded it and read for himself when Will, who’d placed his palms over his eyes said in a gruff voice, “Aloud.”

Hannibal paused, but Will finally slouched, letting his hands land in defeat between his thighs as he looked up at Hannibal. “I need to hear somebody else say it. I need to know if I’m not dreaming.”

Hannibal looked ready to concern himself, but instead pressed his lips together, not denying Will of his reassurance, he began to read aloud like he’d done so many times before. “ _Will, I don’t want you to worry and by the time you’ve found this, I’ll probably have left Wolftrap by now. I need some time to clear my head, I don’t know how long, but I promise I’ll be okay. Abigail.”_

Will inhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his mouth and rough whiskers, falling back into the back of the bench with his legs braced and open, shoulders slumped in defeat. He was probably a pathetic sight, but Hannibal still calmly folded up the letter and placed it back into its envelope. Tucking it away into his jacket, Hannibal took the seat next to Will on the small bench.

“So that’s it then.” Will murmured. “I lost Beverly, and now I’ve lost Abigail.”

“You have not lost Abigail, Will.” Hannibal said gently, watching Will with genuine eyes. “It appears she has lost herself more than you have she. And she will return in time.”

“Well, I don’t find that very convincing, Dr. Lecter.” Will said, that self-punishing grin upon his face, the dry humor a purposeful push against the bruise he had made upon himself. Hannibal pursed his lips at the formal title, but said nothing of it, something Will appreciated.

“Take me home.” Will said suddenly, his voice ridged with exhaustion, making it quiet and dry. Hannibal pressed his lips together, contemplating before standing and offering one of his elegant hands to Will, who accepted it and let himself be pulled up.

The walk to the car was much like a walk of shame. Will was embarrassed, and it mingled with an endless amount of other emotions until he was left clueless and pitiful, almost feeling like one of his strays, wandering along the edge of a highway in a half-hazard manor.

Although, it wasn’t Will who was corralling the animal this time. Hannibal walked patiently by his side, opening the door of his car to Will and watching as he climbed in before walking around the car to his own side and sliding in.

As Hannibal started up the car, Will spoke quietly to the open air between them. “Not Wolftrap.”

He’d thought Hannibal may not have heard him as the man paused, but then he continued, completely unaffected and accepting t this additional news.

On the silent road, Will contemplated everything that was hitting his system. Beverly was gone as was Abigail, although whether they were both permanent occurrences, Will had no idea. Perhaps while away, Abigail would realize she couldn’t get over everything without giving _up_ everything. Would she really be capable to abandoning Will? Leaving her life behind her without a second glance?

Will knew it was ridiculous to think this way, but it was hard not to when one of his last conversations with her in person was a vague responding grunt or two before leaving her in the kitchen by herself to watch him go with trying eyes.

And now there was no Beverly to help- No Beverly to rope him into conversation no matter how much he denied actually enjoying it, no Beverly to help Abigail freeze his underwear in a solid ice block as a joke when they learned he hated April Fools. No Beverly, not anymore.

And Will realized as he sat in the plush surroundings of Hannibal’s Bentley’s interior, that this was all he had left. Hannibal and his dark elegance and sly eyes, those fantastic lips spilling comforts and wisdom alike as he held Will like a person, not a possession.

Will shifted his gaze to Hannibal, who was contentedly keeping his eyes to the road and his hands to himself. Hannibal had never made any inappropriate moves, never suggested anything vulgar- sure there had been those times where he’d been in Will’s space purposely to see him blush, or ran his hands over him a certain way while they kissed, but he’d never made any jumps, never done anything that could make Will uncomfortable.

Having been in only a few, in fact _very_ few relationships before, Will had become used to the sudden hand upon his thigh or wiggling into his own slack fingers while out in public, and there was many times he’d pull out of it from surprise. Apparently, he’d found, it was offensive to some and a complete deal breaker.

Sitting on the plush leather seat of the Bentley, Will was having an internal crisis. Here Hannibal was, well-off, handsome, intelligent, and could probably get anyone his wanted, and yet he was with _Will,_ whose previous relationships were short, quick, and practically based off of looks and minimal hobbies alone- something he didn’t even have now. Running his fingers over the damaged skin of his cheek, an ugly twist came upon Will’s lips. Pity, perhaps, was keeping Hannibal with him. It seemed like the only option to why somebody would stay with someone so banged up. Now his brain was turning to ulterior motives that Hannibal could possibly be pushing…

“Would you like me to prepare dinner for you?” Hannibal’s calm words broke Will away from his possibly poisonous thoughts. He tilted his head towards the other man for a second, contemplating, before truthfully admitting, “I’m not sure if I could eat.”

“Understandable. The loss of loved ones can often make us sick to our stomach.” Hannibal said passively, and it practically set Will’s teeth on edge.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Will said flatly. “How do _you_ feel? Abigail and you were beginning a relationship of your own.”

Hannibal’s mouth parted slightly to release a breath, eyes half mast, he looked almost godlike under the low sun, the orange and bronze hues making his skin glow like gold. “I am,” he said slowly, before deciding. “ _At a loss_. I will miss Abigail.”

Will nodded, slightly, biting down on his bottom lip and returning his gaze to the outside. “I’m sorry I said you were her father earlier. Twice.”

“There is no need for apologies, Will, if you had not, I doubt that it would have wrought a more positive reaction.” Hannibal said, and Will snorted, his own form of agreement.

“Why did you ask for that mans’ business card when you’d already taken one of the secretary’s from the stack on the counter?” Will questioned suddenly, eyes slightly narrowed as he cocked his head, a frown upon his face.

“You noticed that, did you?” Hannibal murmured, contemplating. “If I must be honest, it is in case we have any more questions about Abigail and what she had went through. For you sake of mind as much as my own.”

“Very considerate of you.” Will said dryly, his tone causing Hannibal’ brows to raise.

“You do not believe me?” Hannibal asked, not a conviction or a demand, just a question. Will gave a humorless laugh, dry and harsh. “It’s not that I don’t believe _you_ , Doctor Lecter, it’s that I don’t honestly believe you _intentions_.”

Hannibal’s lips pursed, something switched behind his gaze as Will watched him with cool eyes. Someone as kind, as well-mannered and charming as Hannibal Lecter could not be a real person, could _not_ have bad intentions behind that favoring demeanor. Will wasn’t sure where the sudden burst of distrust and despair came from, but it clawed his insides until they felt like jelly.

“When you want to disconnect yourself from a situation in which I am involved, you titled me with my doctorate rather than my Christian name. Is there something in this conversation that is making you uncomfortable, Will?”

“Nothing at all _Hannibal.”_ Will replied. “Just sometimes we all need reminding of who we are.”

“Should I call you Special Agent Graham, then? As a way to address your more than pedestrian role in society?” Hannibal countered, and Will bit down on his lip, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a terse silence in the wake of Hannibal’s question. “I’m just upset. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Will, I am _psychiatrist_ , I understand your reaction exactly and I did not expect any less.” Hannibal replied gently, a soft smile curled upon his lips as he glanced over, meeting Will’s eyes for a brief moment.

“I may have taken a pass on dinner,” Will said quietly, watching the ever-darkening sky. “But I could sure use a drink.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hannibal’s home was a lair.

Even as he stepped inside like he had before, little pieces of Hannibal’s personality flashed in his face. The dark warm colors that bled of security, the smell of faint vanilla and spices, the elegant but not overdone décor. It all pointed in different directions and yet led to the same man.

“Anything in particular to drink?” Hannibal said as he slid Will’s jacket from his shoulders.

“Surprise me.” Will murmured, turning to face Hannibal and finding him closer than his intended. Hannibal’s gaze was contemplating, eyes black under the dim lights and searing into Will like hot coals. He didn’t know where the impulse came from, nor when he let it take control, but within seconds Will had placed a cool palm upon Hannibal’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him.

Hannibal responded softly, a warm hands on either side of Will’s neck, gentle as ever. It was a nice kiss, if Will had to describe it, fairly silent without any struggling for who was in control of it, not nips or swipes of a tongue, it was the warm sensation of lips, the turn of heads with the brush of their noses and it was honestly _comfortable._ Reassuring.

When they parted, it was only between their lips, Will staying leaned against Hannibal and laying his face into the crook of the mans’ neck. Hannibal ran one hand down Will’s back, fingers gently brushing his spine. He repeated the movement, in slow warm strokes over the worn flannel, and Will realized he was shaking.

“I’m sorry. That was unexpected.” Will murmured, although he still did not withdraw from Hannibal, who was still gently rubbing his back. Will felt insecure, defenseless, as if suddenly everything had just kicked in, Abigail was gone, Beverly was gone- and he _knew_ these, thought it a thousand times but now the words finally seemed concrete, real, and it made him weak in the knees.

“It’s quite alright Will.” Hannibal murmured. His voice sounded deeper at this angle, more melodic and vibrating, as if it traveled under his skin and into Will’s. “Now,” Hannibal said as he gently retracted himself from Will, sternly keeping a hand upon the man’s shoulder and giving him a warm smile. “About that drink.”

Will returned the smile, weak and forced, but a smile nonetheless.

Hannibal leads the way to sitting area, the very one where he and Will had first kissed. Will nearly blushes at the memory. He’d be sporadically bold that night, well, at least before a Ripper victim showed up and he had to leave. Will grimaced at the thought.

“I will not be long. Feel free to find something to read or to look around. Hannibal said, turning to walk towards the exit, Will turned his gaze to the room around him, evaluating it. And just as he was sure Hannibal was nearly out of the room he called, “Hannibal?”

“Yes Will?” He replied, obviously having stopped. Will could feel the dark eyes burning into him, but he did not look towards the man, not yet.

“Did you just give me permission to snoop?” Now he looked, turning to grin at the man, who slowly smiled back and inclined his head before slipping out of the room and leaving Will alone. Alright, that was permission enough.

Removing his hands from his pockets Will began to wander around the very open room. Bookshelves made up the walls and the furniture was as he remembered, warm toned and soft. Will wondered vaguely, as he ran his fingers down the spine of a book, how much time Hannibal spent in here. The entire thing felt like more of a mask than of a living room.

As Will had noticed before, only bits and pieces of Hannibal were evident when wandering through his home, but Will had a sneaking suspicious that the farther you went into the belly of the beast, the more of him you’d uncover.

Will remembered his own childhood, for him, a place that was always show he truly was would be in his room, or in his basement, although he was very sure that Hannibal would not be much of a basement dweller.

His kitchen, perhaps, it told much about the man as his car did, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Will’s lips twisted into a debating shape, his thoughts wandering as he walked through the room. This was one of the reasons he had not wanted to go back to Wolftrap tonight, Hannibal provided distractions, as did his home, something all too welcome this night.

Speaking of feeling welcomed… Will clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t have just kissed Hannibal like that, not only was it sudden but if Hannibal didn’t approve he wouldn’t say it out of politeness. Will had to admit, much of his purpose there tonight was less than honorable, but if Hannibal wasn’t interested in rushing along he was going to have to shove it, and suddenly kissing the man like that isn’t helping anyone.

Although it _was_ a very nice kiss.

Will slid a book from its place, heavy aged leather with thick bindings. There was no titled listed, but as he gently opened it, Will realized it must’ve been very old. The pages were yellowed and the ink look handwritten, giving off a musty but well-kept smell. The cover wasn’t in pieces, so Will presumed it was a well-oiled book.

It took him a second to blearily realize it was written in something foreign, perhaps Italian. How many languages did Hannibal speak? Will knew the man was Lithuanian, sure, but English was hard enough of a language to learn itself, let alone something like Italian.

It was the smell that caught Will’s attention, not the footsteps that didn’t seem to exist. It was strong, the scent of chocolate and spices filled Will’s vicinity quickly as he looked up.

“ _Divina Commedia_ by Dante Alighieri.” Hannibal announced, seeing the book in Will’s hand. “A first edition I acquired from a acquaintance when I was a younger man.”

“ _This_ is a first edition?” Will said, suddenly feeling like if he held it any longer it might suddenly become damaged at his fault, He quickly closed it and eased it back into its spot before hurriedly and wiping his hands upon his jeans before turning his attention back to Hannibal with an awkward smile.

He only noticed than the man held two saucers, the mugs upon them were wide and low, dark brown and bronze ceramics that were emitting the spicy scent that was reeling Will in.

Will quickly took one cup from Hannibal’s hand and proceeded to follow him to the two leather armchairs facing the fireplace. “This is a spiced hot chocolate, nothing to complex.”

“Thank you.” Will said with a smile, lifting the mug just underneath his nose to inhale the smell. Bitter dark chocolate, cinnamon, sweet milk, and- “Is there rum in this?”

“Indeed there it. I figured you would enjoy it and it happens to add to the flavor.” Hannibal said, having already set his mug aside to go to one knee in front of the fireplace, placing wood into the iron chamber before turning on the gas and striking a match, the flame spreading over the wood instantaneously.

Will sipped his drink, watching and Hannibal straightened before moving back to his own seat. The drink lived up to the expectations Will had built for Hannibal. It was spiced, not overly so but enough to make his insides warm- although the rum helped with that also, blending into the dark chocolate and milk creamily and being a sensation all of its own.

“I have no idea how to manage to make something as fantastic as this in such a short amount of time.” Will said calmly, enjoying the way the chill left his bones as he felt pleasantly weakened. “Makes me wonder what you could do with hours on your side.”

“Cooking requires patience and management.” Hannibal murmured over his own drink. “Much like relationships, effort must be used and you must follow instructions. Too much or too little of something can cause a failure. It takes time.”

“And if you decide to reanimate the recipe?” Will replied, watching the flickering embers of the fire. “Add more spice for instance. Take a risk.”

“Taking a risk can surely end one of two ways, success or failure. I have always seen myself as a risk taker.” Hannibal said, not so much as glancing at Will, watching the fire just as he did. “Do you see yourself as a risk taker, Will?”

“On occasion. Though it usually ends badly for me.” He responded, taking another mouthful of his drink. He suddenly wished it had more rum in it.

“And if the occasion of success happened?”

“Then hell hath _surely_ frozen over.” Will replied in a sudden bout of sarcasm that earned him a rumbling laugh from Hannibal.

The silence becomes comfortable, the two men not making an effort to break it as they drank the bitter sweet chocolate and watched the fire. Will exhaled suddenly, mug lowered from his lips, glass grey-blue eyes holding reflections of the seizing flame across from him.

“What if I asked you to hold me tonight.” Will murmured suddenly, voice solemn as he took a swallow of his drink, still not looking at Hannibal as he spoke, even as he felt eyes turn upon him. “To remind me that’s I’m not alone.”

“Do you feel alone, Will?” Hannibal asked, that psychiatrist tone playing on his voice.

“Yes.” Will replied with monotone. He was reaching the bottom of his cup, spices that had sank through the drink to the bottom sway gently into the warmed liquid every time he moved. It was a blunt, truthful answer that had Hannibal cocking his head, dark eyes contemplating as he, too, returned his burgundy gaze to the crackling fire.

“And so you seek the embrace of, pardon my proposition, your _last_ ally left as a reassurance of your opaqueness.” Hannibal murmured. It wasn’t a proposition to be pardoned at all, rather the truth parading as apologetic and Will knew it. Everyone else was gone, the last of Will’s support had left with Abigail. Beverly and she had been Will’s crutches, his support for what felt like forever, providing him the feeling of family that he could never find elsewhere.

“Where else am I to go?” Will said, a strange smile that didn’t reach his eyes had curled over his lips, a sarcastic, saucy edge on his words as he finally looked at Hannibal, eyes bright with pain. “You are all I have left.”

Hannibal hummed. That’s it. A simple contemplating noise as he finished his own mug of cocoa and placed it upon its saucer. Will, who’d in fished his, stood. “I’ll take it.” He said, picking the saucer from the table, quickly leaving the room towards the dining room door, not needing to hear Hannibal’s thanks when he knew of it already.

Will placed the dishes gently in the bottom the sink. He wondered if perhaps he should put it in the dishwasher- modern and shiny, but across the room, suggesting that Hannibal did not use it often. He decided instead to roll of his sleeves and turn the tap on gently, pleasantly surprised by the lack of extreme water pressure like he had in his own home.

Wetting the sponge that sat on a small holder, Will guessed that the small ceramic container with the pump upon it held the soap. He didn’t figure Hannibal was the type to leave the plastic bottles cluttered everywhere.

Will took care in cleaning the mugs, knowing that Hannibal would have done the same, even with Will’s own cheap chipped glasses. Hannibal showed care to everything he did, and Will figured it would be the polite thing to do as well.

Even though there was a drying rack, Will still took the soft dish cloth from where it hung on the railing of the oven. Will couldn’t help but smile slightly, it was a fire hazard and he knew that well as was sure the good Doctor did as well. Tempting fate perhaps? Or maybe daring it.

Will stood over the sink, head ducked, drying the last saucer when Hannibal came in. Will kept his back to the man, and felt him approach behind him, the tap of his footsteps was purposeful, Will knew, because Hannibal could be _much_ quieter.

Will didn’t stiffen or even jump when he felt a hand creep onto his hip to pace itself on his gut, fingertips applying the slightest bit of pressure as Hannibal peer over Will’s shoulder. “You did not need to clean them.”

“It was the least I could do since you made the refreshments.” Will murmured, watching his and Hannibal’s slightly warped reflection in the curved saucer before gently setting it onto the drying rack. “I’m afraid I didn’t know where they went.”

“There is good for now.” Hannibal murmured, now pressed fully against Will’s back as the man wiped his own hands the dishcloth before unconsciously laying it down beside the sink, only then did he lean into Hannibal, letting his head rest gently upon his shoulder.

Hannibal’s over hand wound its way under Will’s arm and curved up, his fingers laid flat upon Will’s collarbone, hugging the shorter man to him. “You are not alone Will.” Hannibal murmured in response to their earlier conversation, lips brushing his ear slightly, making Will shiver. “And I want to help you understand that, although I do not want to do that without your consent.”

“Are you asking if you can make love to me, Doctor Lecter?” Will murmured, head tilted back, neck exposed. He could feel the slow exhales of Hannibal’s breath upon the delicate skin there.

Hannibal made a slight noise, “You are distancing yourself from the situation Will.”

“No, not at all.” He said, brows furrowed and a slight smile upon his face. “I would figure you would like to be referred to from your professional standard seeing as it is more significant than my own, more _dominant_.”

And it clicked, he felt Hannibal’s lips curve where they were pressed against the curve of his neck. “Is dominance what you seek, Will?”

“Distraction.” Will murmured in response, reaching back with his own hand to curl around the doctor’s thigh and squeeze it gently. He could feel the first tendrils of arousal stirring and undoubtedly Hannibal was feeling the same.

Will raised his head from where he’d laid it, opening his eyes and meeting Hannibal’s dark ones. In the low light of the kitchen the shadows upon Hannibal’s face made by his distinct features where comparable to a monster from a children story, making him seem almost demonic in his beauty.

But then again, Will saw real monsters for a living.

The kiss was hot, expected and yet still shocking, making Will stumble slightly and Hannibal do the same, taking a few steps back together. Will felt Hannibal loosed his arms slightly as an opportunity for Will to turn and change their odd angle. He took it.

Hannibal held him fast, arms around him once more, sturdy, like a cage meant to keep Will in, yet Will doubted he’d want to be anywhere but there right that second as he went for Hannibal’s mouth with as much vigor as he could, nearly clashing their teeth together in the process. It went unnoticed as Hannibal turned them around and pushed Will up against the island counter, making him emit a small noise.

Although Will had never been one for getting tongue involved while kissing, when Hannibal’s intruded his mouth he didn’t care, letting him explore while grabbing the man by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. The action pulling a growl from Hannibal that Will could feel vibrate though his own skin and give him goosebumps. He grinned belatedly at knowing he’d done that to the man.

Will was undeniably hard right now, and he could very well tell Hannibal was. Biting the other man’s lip gently, tugging it slightly as he slowly, purposefully grind their hips together so as to provide friction between both of their erections, trapped under the material of their pants.

Hannibal and Will’s eyes met for a mere second, Hannibal’s eyes, pupils blown, meeting Will’s own. It was a confirmation mostly, that Will was actually a willing participant of his desire. Will’s body was stiff with both want and embarrassment both as he met Hannibal’s gaze levelly, lips parted and cheeks flushed, and it was all Hannibal needed.

He descended upon Will’s lips once more with a stunning ferocity that left Will panting, and he couldn’t help but think about how he was happy just to stay there even, to kiss and press their hips against each other’s and breath the same potent, hot air, right there in the kitchen. Will finds himself not only aggressive, but possessive as he keeps one hand tightened in the lapel of Hannibal’s jack and places the other boldly on the man’s ass, earning another noise from Hannibal.

Will’s desire is all hot mouths and rough kisses, the need to be held, distracted, bent to this man’s will even if it meant submitting to it- and he was so _fucking_ desperate…

And yet he finds no reproach for his forwardness.

When Hannibal attempts to pull his lips away, probably for their own better good before one of them fainted from lack of oxygen, it is to no avail. Will is determined, making an almost finicky nose as he holds tighter to the man’s jacket and Hannibal makes a noise in the back of his throat that was suspiciously like a laugh.

Will barely noticed when a hand wound into his hair, snaring it tight and giving it a sharp tug that reared his head back so that their lips parted. The action was not necessarily painful as much as surprising Will grinned sheepishly and bashfully at the man, deciding to keep how much the hair pulling had turned him on to himself.

“As much as I am sure we both enjoying this,” Hannibal murmured, voice low as he stared down at Will warmly. “A kitchen is a most undesirable place for intercourse so may I suggest taking this to a more comfortable place?”

“Lead the way.” Will replied in a hushed, roughened tone, an undeniable sparkle in his eyes as he wound one of his hands in Hannibal’s own. Even if walking was uncomfortable situation at the moment due to the tightness at his groin, Will followed Hannibal’s meaningful pace. The man was just as eager was Will, even if he did not want to show it audibly.

Will’s previous thoughts mingled in his mind as he followed Hannibal from kitchen, practically stepping on his heels much to his own embarrassment. We was about to go to a place in the home to which he hadn’t been yet, the man’s personal room and it would honestly be like looking at the man himself from a whole new angle.

In the kitchen, Hannibal was graceful, every movement planed, every action playing out perfectly almost like a dance, the room was the man’s lair, his place of safety. Meanwhile, his bedroom was his place of rest, his place of release, comfort or _pleasure_ in this case. It was an entirely different domain, and completely different part of the man in front of him, so kindly leading the way.

Will worried his bottom lip, swollen from the heated kissing in the kitchen as he watched Hannibal’s shoulders, broad and fit, leading down to narrow hips and a rather fantastic ass if Will said so himself. He couldn’t resist but make a small noise in admiration.

Will and Hannibal made it to the staircase before Will’s bodily admiration wasn’t enough, he had to feel it, touch it. Damn _behold_ it. He quickly roped an arm around Hannibal before the man could take another step and pulled him around into another heated kiss, instead Will taking control, wrapping his fingers into Hannibal’s hair to keep him in place.

Hannibal’s response was a growl and to walk Will’s back into the wall, the force of which he connected made a little huff of air force itself from his lungs as Hannibal responded with more control then Will had before. It now seemed to become a competition- who could take the others breathe away, who could show more dominance and carnal energy. Damn, they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet and they were already beginning to act like animals.

Making a little noise of objection, Will kissed Hannibal back just as hard, trying to get his share of dominance. The kiss was easily turning wild, sloppier as they both tried to be in control with hot lips and hotter tongues. With an intense pace, Will started at the buttons of Hannibal’s navy colored shirt. He was blessed today, the man having dressed down and already removed his jacket.

Will only made it hallway before Hannibal’s hands found his own, and much to his shock and delight, moved to hold them against the wall at shoulder height, successfully caging him to his will as he moved his mouth to the edge of Will’s jaw from his lips and down onto his throat, sucking gently over the pulsing vein there and lightly grazing the spot with his teeth, causing Will to moan.

“You are very poor,” Hannibal murmured, breathing a bit heavier as he laid small nips and kisses almost teasingly over Will’s exposed neck. “At patience.”

“My self-control has always needed improvement.” Will murmured, arching forward slightly as his groin throbbed almost painfully. Hannibal had purposely kept his lower half out of Will’s reach, keeping any chance of rutting their throbbing erections to ease the uncomfortable stiffness was denied in cocky amusement. Will made a faintly fussy nose, turning his neck up slightly more to give Hannibal more access.

“I could provide help for that.” Hannibal replied before planting a soft kiss upon the skin where Will’s neck met his shoulder.

“How about a time,” Will said practically panting. “Where I don’t want to be thrown down onto a bed and ravished.”

Hannibal laughed, a genuine, pleased noise that was like warm molasses to Will, sticking to him in a tangible, savory way. “Then I suggest we continue moving upward so as to fulfil that desire.”

The rest of the way up the stairs is an unsteady fumble, Will continuously looking over his shoulder at Hannibal as he led the way, almost like he expected the man to vanish. He nearly tripped twice because of it. Hannibal still kept that smile of his in place, eyes crinkled lightly as he admired Will from behind.

Hannibal’s door was indicated to him, and Will walked across the dark hardwood with ease, a sudden calm coming over him. He was fine, this was fine, and he _wanted_ this. He opened the door was walked through it first, leaving Hannibal to follow and shut it gently.

Will was caged, alone in the room with Hannibal and yet he felt no fear, nor should he as he turned and found Hannibal already there. Gently sweeping his fingers over Will’s cheek and brushing some of Will’s flyaway curls back, the man couldn’t help but grin at the way Hannibal’s own hair had become loose from Will’s insistent fingers. It was a nice look for him.

“I think,” Will said calmly as he fingers once again found their way to Hannibal’s shirt as he steadily moved closed into the man’s space under his ever-studying gaze. “I may have undone you, Doctor Lecter.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal replied, head cocked and eyes appraising.

“Mhmm.” Will hummed casually, letting Hannibal’s shirt fall open to reveal a study chest laden with greying blond hair. He placed his hands just under the sleeves and gently pushed it back so it slid down his arms and onto the floor. Hannibal made no move, letting Will take his pace.

With one hand on Hannibal’s chest, directly between his pectorals and planted into the fluffy hair, Will eased his back, slowly, one step at a time towards the large bed. His other hand worked at Hannibal’s belt, having enough experience with his own it didn’t take long, making so he could maintain eye contact the entire time, gently biting his lip.

“And I think I’ll continue to do so.” Will continued as his hand worked the button of Hannibal’s pants just as they reached the bed, Will slowly pushed him down upon it so he was in a sitting position. He was in control, something he’d wanted to give up so quickly, to roll belly up and expose his neck, but for Hannibal he’d indulge him, even if only for a few minutes.

Distraction. That’s what Will was after and he knew he’d feel guilty later, but right now he was focused on Hannibal. Hannibal who was watching him with his placid, contemplating eyes as Will went on his knees in front of him, watching him through dark lashes.

Will's confidence is a palpable thing as he finishes the unmasking of Hannibal's pants. Taking a second to pull off shoes and socks, setting them aside, before watching the man raise his hips slight from the bed so Will could pull the pants away, trailing his fingers over bronzed, muscle toned thighs as he did, instead of tossing them aside, he folded them gently under Hannibal’s watching gaze, and put them aside as well, knowing Hannibal would appreciate the gesture, even if it had been somewhat sloppily done.

Eye contact returned, and Hannibal cocked his head, almost as if curious to what Will would do next. Will himself was curious, biting his lip as if to stop the wiry smile from curling his lips. This was a definite jump upwards in their relationship, but he didn’t mind, and neither did Hannibal obviously.

As Will had expected, the patient, gentle man was all coiled, well-built muscle under a leaned frame, and Will enjoying watching the flicks of muscle as he ran his splayed fingers over Hannibal's thighs once more. He exercised, regularly is seemed, and Will tilted his head at the man appraisingly.

"Jogger?" He asked with a murmured, stopping his hands momentarily to dig his fingers tips into the skin he found there, feel the hard packed meat underneath.

"Swimmer, actually." Was Hannibal's hummed response. That would definitely explain it.

Will shifted his gaze down Hannibal's neck, to his collarbone, the dips exposed slightly as he breathed in steady, long breaths. Will continued his gazing down to his torso, laden with muscle but also the soft lines of age. Will didn't mind in the slightest, not exactly being as limber as he used to be himself.

Will's eyes met their proper destination, where Hannibal's erection was pressed heavy and full against his underwear between his legs.

A smile curved Will's lips and he moved forward on his knees so that he was between Hannibal's. The bed was elevated enough that Will was just under Hannibal's elbow in height from where he sat upon his knees on the soft carpet, making it so when he leaned in to brush his lips over the man's collarbone he could place a hand at the edge of the mattress to lift his knees from the floor, using his feet to maintain balance to give himself for access.

Hannibal lean his head back, allowing Will's curious lips to skim over his skin before he picked a spot to suck, just as his over hand went to Hannibal's throbbing cock to gently massage it through the warm material, making the man groan. Will grinned, grazing his teeth lightly over the light suck mark upon the honey colored skin.

He continued to lick and tease as his hand moved from its slow rubbing to his waistband, delving into it to feel actual skin, hard and sensitive. The contact of Will's hand upon him made Hannibal groan once more as he was pulled free from his slim boxers by calloused yet gentle hands.

Hannibal was uncut, but Will had expected as much seeing as he came from a foreign background, but the fact the man was well endowed was a bonus. Thick and heavy, the skin was velvety and soft as expected and Will moaned himself at the feel of Hannibal in his palm as he slowly stroked him, feeling the impressive length and statue of his cock. Hannibal panted slightly, fingers bunched into the comforter as Will continued this for a few seconds, causing his muscles to tighten and his breaths to shallow.

Will's mouth slid away from Hannibal, as did his hand, leaving the man to lower his gaze and watch as Will slid properly back onto his knees, at perfect level with Hannibal's cock.

Will dampened his lips. It'd been a while since he'd done this, he was rusty perhaps, and it caused a quench of nervousness in his stomach. Nervousness that made his blurt out, "So you're clean right?"

Hannibal paused, moving his dark gaze onto Will, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, before a small smile crept onto his lips and he answered complying. "Yes, Will, I am. I ensure you are as well?"

"Well, I haven’t gotten checked in a while," Will stated in a casual awkwardness that only made Hannibal smile more. The mad shifted, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued. "But, I mean, I haven’t had sex in a while either so..."

"It is quite alright Will, I trust you." It was a calm reply to Will's babbling, one that made him hush instantly. For some reason, those words impacted him deeply and unexpectedly. It didn’t matter he was kneeling in front of a hardened cock he intended to have inside him in more than one way, hell it wouldn’t matter if they were in Jamaica or on the fucking _moon_ , Hannibal saying he trusted Will's words as well as his judgement was touching, and Will grinned in response.

"Right... so I’m going to continue now." He said in that ever-adoring awkwardness, a bashful grin on his face. Hannibal smiled widely in response, equally amused by Will’s sudden outburst. "Please, go right ahead."

Will wasted no time diving back in, the room holding a lighter, less serious feeling as Will laid butterfly kisses to the inside of Hannibal's thigh, placing his hand firmly on the man's hips as he did so as to hold him in place.

Hannibal made the tiniest of noises as Will sucked a gentle mark to an apparently sensitive spot upon the skin that hid his femoral artery. Will grinned at the realization before gently nipping the spot again and dabbing it lightly with his tongue. He felt the man's cock jerk in response and Will continues to tease the spot for a bit, enjoying the relentless little noises Hannibal made, before finally moving on, his mouth creeping up to his abdomen, nipping and licking the defined V that was there in utter delight before finally - finally - turning his attention to the man's cock.

Planting a kiss, almost teasingly at the base, Will waited a moment before slowly dragging his wet lips up the underside, over the vein that resided there before to the tip, where he planted another kiss, grinning as he felt Hannibal shift.

With gentle fingers, Will pulls back the sensitive foreskin, revealing in the sharp breath Hannibal hissed out in response. Precome had already built, and Will rubbed his thumb over the sensitive head, smearing the sticky fluid, before replacing it with his mouth, and Hannibal groaned out in honest.

Will slid his tongue over the slit, tasting the saltiness of the liquid that build there, a taste he was well accustomed to but long forgotten.

Not wanting to rush this for himself or Hannibal, Will placed his own throbbing need aside, settling for shifting slight to rub his own heated erection against the inside of his jeans, a sensation that was slowly loosing it's wonder.

Will progressively slide his mouth lower onto Hannibal's cock, wanting to get accustomed to his personal size and weight, an all-new record from those few that had been its place before.

The smell was as expected, musky and slightly sweetened by sweat, but also the undeniable hint of sandalwood. Will wondered idly what the man used to get such an intoxicating scent in such a private place. Perhaps it was his laundry detergent? Will was making a side note to ask later before he realized now was not the time.

Hannibal's long fingers curled in Will's hair, and he was sure the only thing keeping Hannibal from thrusting into Will’s heavenly sweet, hot mouth was the hands on his hips and his own moral standard.

Will took him deeper, his determination to please the man above him was thriving, making him throb so hard in his jeans he had to remove one hand from Hannibal to rub himself through the coarse denim, something that only made him even thirstier to be touched.

It was only when Will felt the head of Hannibal's cock hitting the back of his throat that he realized he would easily choke if he wasn’t careful. Even with a bare amount of Hannibal's cock left untouched, Will wanted to please him, worship him and his kindness and endless patience with Will and most of all he wanted to worship his body right now, and the splendidly hard cock in his mouth at that moment was no exception. With that decision in mind, Will hollowed his cheeks, shifting his tongue purposefully, and slowly pulled back so only the tip remained in his mouth, before in one swift and quick gesture he took the same amount of length into his mouth again, the tip jutting just slightly against the back of his throat, making him swallow and Hannibal groan. Will continued this torturous action, sliding down Hannibal's stiff length before swallowing it up Again in one swift action, picking up a quicker pace as be became for comfortable, spit pasted over his swollen pink lips and down over his chin in a completely digesting and yet extremely arousing way as he descended mercilessly, determined to take all of Hannibal, to feel every last inch if his glorious length between his lips. Hannibal's fingers tightened in his hair and gave a tug, making Will emit a loud groan as he pull of Hannibal’s saliva laden erection.

He grinned, baring glittering white teeth before climbing up onto Hannibal, straddling his waist and allowing himself to be pulled into a rough kiss, letting Hannibal taste the slight essence of his over musk upon Will's tongue.

Will only realize then he was still mostly dressed, and didn’t remove his mouth from Hannibal's as he leaned back to pull roughly at the back of his shoe, forcing it off before tugging the sock after and doing the same with his other foot. Say what you want, but nothing was more of a mood killer than socks.

Hannibal's hands found their way to the buttons of Will's shirt, as if he too understood Will's need for skin-on-skin contact. Dapper fingers made quick work of the soft wool and all but tossed it in the general direction of the floor. Will wanted to snort at the odd mix of respect and carelessness they’d been showing that night when it came to clothing.

All thoughts scattered from Will's skull though, as Hannibal ducked his mouth to take on of Will’s hardened nipples onto his warm mouth, gently grazing it. Will ran his fingers into Hannibal’s silky hair and hugging him to his chest as he continued to tease Will’s taut nipple so that man groaned.

Will practically jumped when Hannibal’s fingers made quick work of his jeans button and zipper, dipping down under them and past the waistband of his boxer briefs to wrap long fingers around Will’s cock. It was average size, but it wasn’t paid attention to as Will’s head slumped back and he groaned aloud at the sensation of Hannibal’s stroking hand.

Hannibal continued to slowly tease Will’s nipple as his hand worked his cock, feeling Will’s breaths going labored before he finally stuttered out words, “H-Hannibal please,” Will placed his forehead on Hannibal’s shoulder and let out a shaky laugh. “I want you inside me.” It a small plea, nearly broken off by a groan when Hannibal curls his wrist slightly at the upstroke, something Will apparently enjoyed, but it made Hannibal release a small groan into Will’s skin.

Hannibal’s hand slowed and he looked up to meet Will’s glassy eyes, his lips still parted and bright and utterly kissable as Will exhaled deeply. “Then I think,” Hannibal said, “I shall relieve you of your pants.”

In a sudden movement, he turned, flipping the man over so he was on his back on the bed and Hannibal was braced atop him on all fours. He took the momentary opportunity to slide his own underwear away and onto the floor before sliding his fingers under the waist of Will's jeans, feeling the man raise his hips, and dragging them down before doing the same with his underwear, leaving them both completely bare to each other’s gaze. They took a moment, sizing each other up - quite literally- before Will's worldly gaze met Hannibal's smoky ones, and he grinned.

Hannibal grinned back before momentarily sitting atop Will's thighs and leaning back rather uncomfortable to his bedside table and sliding open his drawer. Inside a simple wrapped condom and small bottle of non-scented lube sat. Taking them both in his hand. He nudged the drawer shut before laying the two items atop the bed and turning back to Will, a beautiful sight with his abused plump lips and flush cheeks. He was a wonder of beauty, all soft skin over coarse muscle.

Hannibal ran his hand over the underside of Will's thigh, feeling the other man raise it slightly so as to give more room for Hannibal’s gently fingers as the rubbed the skin he found there, massaging it lightly. Hannibal kissed Will, a soft pliable thing, deepened by Will as he ran warm fingers into Hannibal's mussed hair.

With a sudden push, Hannibal found himself rolled over, much to his surprise, and Will atop him with a devious grin before he kissed him  again, running his fingers through the soft layer of hair over Hannibal's chest, kneading it between his fingers. His grin was evident, even as he slid his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth, gently prodding and rubbing.

Hannibal sat up, and that tables were balanced once more as Will was sat again upon his lap. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will’s and tucked his fingers up into his hair, kissing him back before parting for breath. Will smiled, placing a hand over Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal leaned in a planted a soft butterfly kiss to the tip of Will’s nose before once again claiming his lips.

Will heard the shuffle of Hannibal's hand over sheeting, before it made contact with whatever it was looking for. Hannibal's other hand unwound from Will's hair, moments before he heard the undeniable click of the lube’s cap and he moaned heavily against Hannibal's mouth in anticipation of what was to come. Rocking his hips forward so that their stiff cocks rubbed against one another.

"Access, Will, if you will grant it." Hannibal panted against his lips and Will provided, rearranging his legs so that they were no longer stretched out behind Hannibal but were instead tucked in upon themselves, on either side of Hannibal's legs and folded so that the back of his calves laid pressed under the bottom of his thighs.

Hannibal used the space between his legs to reach under Will's hardened length and past the balls to the tight ring of muscle. He was gentle and thought out, as he was with all things as he rubbed a fingertip coated in lubricant against the opening, still chilled enough to make Will shiver but would soon be heated by both his and Hannibal's collective body heat.

Slowly, Hannibal pressed the fingertip in, giving Will time to adjust before sliding in the rest. Wilk squirmed slightly, making an odd noise. The pressure was always an odd feeling at first, but the more he moved the more it was replaced by a coiling coiled pleasure in his gut, racking warm shivers down his spine and making him rock forward, rutting gently against Hannibal's cock, making the man exhale sharply.

Hannibal waited until Will's odd shifts turned in slow rocking and sharp little breaths before inserting the next finger, this time it was easier for Will to adjust, and Hannibal could feel himself harden almost unreasonably tight when Will rocked forward on his fingers and groaned, eyes closed and head tilted back in pleasure.

He began to rock against them in honest, pinked lips parted as he moaned slightly, pressing and riding the fingers under a third well lubed finger joined, this one bringing a cringe of sudden pain that made Will slow, clenching slightly around Hannibal's fingers.

Hannibal kissed Will softly on the lips before trailing them upon his jawline and down to the tender skin beneath it where Will adored to be kissed. He could feel Will loosening up, muscles accepting the invasion, and shotty exhales become breathy noises as he once again rocks on the man's supple fingers.

Hannibal decides to become creative, with his lips still upon Will's neck, Hannibal moved his fingers inside Will, curling and twitching in search of the small nub of muscle that would make Will writhe in sensual glory.

Hannibal knew he'd found it when Will's entire body spasmed and he left out an ungodly noise that sounded somewhere between a groan and yelp of surprise. Hannibal let out a delighted sound, purposely rubbing his fingers over the spot until Will's entire body was shaking and he was worried he might explode from sheer pleasure.

"H-Hannibal," he choked out. "I- I want - _need_ \- you. _Please."_ Will's voice was strained, pleasure gripping his every tone as Hannibal bore down mercilessly. But who was he to deny such a request?

With Will riding the fingers of his one hand, he used the other to reach for the condom, using his teeth to hold it as he tore the packet open with his fingers and carelessly tossed the tin wrapper aside.

"Let me" Will said, tone husky and eyes mast as he reached for the condom in Hannibal's fingers and positioned it over the man's cocked before rolling it on.

"Lube?" Will asked, only to have it pressed into his hands. Spreading some upon his palm, Will slowed His frantic rocking on Hannibal's fingers as he wrapped his lubed palm over Hannibal's cock and gave it a few pumps.

"Are you ready?” He asked Will, voice roughened to an extremely sexy degree. Will made a humming noise and braced his knees, lifting himself from Hannibal's fingers with a tiny moan.

Hannibal aligned the head of his cock with Will's opening, and then ever so slowly felt the man lower himself down upon it. They groaned in unison, and although it was a bit straining, Hannibal's girthy, hard length was deliciously perfect inside him, getting all the most sensitive nooks and crannies before they'd even moved.

Will hugged onto Hannibal, arms coming up under his armpits to dig his nails into the muscle toned back before giving a testing rock of his hips, feeling Hannibal's cock shift inside him. He did it again, raising himself slightly as he did so as to give a heady warm to Hannibal's and his own gut.

Hannibal pressed his lips into Will's shoulder, rolling his hips upward to earn a small noise from Will, who also began to move, rocking, riding really, upon Hannibal's cock, with his own erection pressed between their soft stomachs.

The more they moved, the tighter Will clung to Hannibal, nails pressed tight enough to create crescent shapes in his skin as he began to tremble slightly.

The pleasure built for Hannibal, like a fire in his cut consistently being fed by the pants and groans of Will as they quickened pace, Will more frantically moved as Hannibal thrust his hips upwards. He knew he'd hit Will's prostate when the man cried out, slack jawed and glossy eyed, his entire body trembled from the jolt.

Hannibal made a rumbling noise deep in his throat, continuing his thrusts as Will became further unglued, clawing at Hannibal's back with gruff nails as he moaned. Pulling his face from Hannibal's neck, he collided their lips and Hannibal thrust his tongue into Will's mouth, hot and invaded and insanely arousing.

Each rock of their hips was a step closer for them both, and Will's cock had leaked precome on them both from where it was trapped between the hot frictions of their bodies.

Will was getting close and Hannibal could tell, reaching down between them and taking the man's length into his dry palm, running his thumb over the leaking slut before running his hand over it, persuading the orgasm Will was verging on as Hannibal continued to hit his prostate.

Hannibal was close as well, biting down on his lip to keep from doing so then. Ever the gentlemen, he believed Will should get the honor of being first.

He remembered from earlier, vaguely, Will had a positive reaction to having his hair pulled, and with his free hand, he ran it up Will's back, over his neck, and into his hair, before gripping it tight and tugging.

Will gasped, sharp and loud before emitting a purring moan from the back of his throat, his nails suddenly digging in deep and hard into Hannibal’s back as he came, hot and thick between the two men as Hannibal rode him through the orgasm before, he, too, came with a deep rumble in the back of his throat followed by a sharp exhale, letting his head fall against Will’s shoulder.

They collapsed, sweaty and spent and completely graceless. Will atop Hannibal as they flopped in the aftermath, letting the fiery heat of the orgasm dwindle and the moderately cool temperature of the room wash over their drying skin.

"We're going to get sticky if we stay like this." Will murmured numbly. He didn’t frankly care, but Hannibal might, being the almost obsessively cleanly person he was.

"I will get us a cloth in a minute." Hannibal murmured, fatigue clinging to his tone, make Will snort.

He was content here. Happy here. Even if here was lying on top of the best lay of his life as a literal semen sandwich.

Will snorted at the thought- Beverly would've approved.

His mood darkened instantly, and want to keep from ruining the afterglow, he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Hannibal, who’d contentedly shut his eyes, a small smile on his face. Poking Hannibal’s arm, Will spoke up.

"We could always shower"

Hannibal opened one eye slowly to look thoughtfully at Will, who had a bashful grin curling the corner of his mouth. With a unnecessarily deep sigh, he responded sarcastically. "Are you sure you can walk properly?"

A joke. Will knew it was a joke. The grin twirled his face as he raised his eyebrows comically at Hannibal’s sudden humor. "I'm not sure, can you?"

"Of course I can." He replied with a scoffing noise, both eyes open and face turned towards Will, watching the toothy grin spread wider and wider across the younger man’s face before he gave in with a sigh and asked, "Why?"

"Just thinking you could be my knight in shining armor and _carry me_." Will said, batting his eyelashes almost comically, laughter dripping from his tone and crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes.

 Hannibal arched his brows, a smile curving his own lips. "Are you quite sure I am not the villain? The jealous demonic deity or spiteful dragon here to steal the princess for himself?"

Will paused in the middle of drawing small shapes through Hannibal's chest hair. He wrinkled his nose as he asked, "Who said anything about a princess?"

"Is the knight in shining armor not always directed towards saving the distressed princess?" Hannibal said in false contemplation, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes as he reached a palm up to Will's cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb as the man grinned in return.

"Fine," Will said in a mock defeated tone. "If I say I’m a princess will you carry me to the shower?"

"Will you also put on a magenta dress and give me your handkerchief?" Hannibal asked with that mock-serious humor that is always betrayed by the bend in his eyebrows, or as a bonus in this case, his wide smile showing off sharp white teeth.

"Shut up," Will said, slapping Hannibal's shoulder as they both laughed. Will was determined to have the last word in, though, adding quickly. “Besides, you’re the one who has a handkerchief.”

“I do not.” Hannibal said, unable to stop smiling. Will’s presence always brought him immense pleasure, in more than one way, but his conversation was always what made their knowing one-another worth it. “They are pocket squares.”

“And when you unfold them, they’re just pieces of nice fabric. So the same thing as a handkerchief.” Will said in a patronizing manor, grinning at Hannibal who signed in defeat.

“I think I may be the one waving the handkerchief, although it will be in defeat it appears.” Hannibal said, rolling up into a sitting position, stretching slightly as Will watched with raised brows and a triumphant look.

“Although, I very well intend to carry you.” Grabbing Will by the underside of the knees he pulled him to the edge of the bed before curling one arm under them and the other under his back despite the stuttered, feeble protests overridden by laughter.

Holding Will bridal style, Hannibal stood, letting Will process the fact Hannibal was actually holding him. Overridden by laughter, Hannibal took the second to observe Will, the way his head was leaned back, and how his laughter was jovial and honest, causing his eyes crinkle up to slits and bright teeth bared in a smiling mouth, Even as sweat and his overcome dried over his naked skin, Will was a sight of absolute beauty and delight.

It was a memory to be kept, folded away in Hannibal's Mind Palace for the rest of days, even once Will Graham was no longer alive, no longer gracing the famine of humanity with pure light and honest promise. Hannibal tilted his head, watching Will for another quick second before slowly making his way towards the bathroom.

Will was heavier than expected, but nothing he could not handle. Will was not dead weight, and Hannibal had carried such that weighed much more than the man in his arms.

The master bathroom was like the rest of his home, elegant and well decorated, it was painted a deep sage color with chestnut accenting and dark marble. Hannibal gently set Will back down on his feet. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I recall you asking me to do so.” Hannibal said, head cocked as he grinned down at Will, who snorted, and then, very suddenly hugged him.

“Thank you,” He said, muffled against Hannibal’s chest. “For being with me. For reminding me I’m not alone.”

“You are always welcome, Will.” Hannibal murmured, pressing a soft kiss into Will’s hair. “It was my pleasure.”

 

 [t1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO FUCKING SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES.  
> Also, sorry for the long wait, my most used phrase while writing this was "I want nothing to do with this" while shielding my face.  
> I don't think that was HORRIBLE for somebody who was writing for the first time. Shout-out to every gay fic i've ever read for leading me here. Nothing like being the family disappointment.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO I WILL BE GOING ON VACATION THE WEEK AFTER NEXT, SO I'LL TRY TO GET ANOTHER CHAPTER UP BEFORE THEN


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello.
> 
> So i will be away fro the next week, although y'all are probably getting used to my 'wait 90 days for the next chapter' routine, so i apologize. This chapter is short, brief, and really to the point.
> 
> Also will has very little self confidence about himself at the moment so Hannibal is his crutch. Well, second crutch.

When Will awoke, it wasn’t dramatically, with a gasp or flaring of eyelids.

It had to be late- or early – due to the substantial darkness in the room. It took Will a second to remember where he was, under sheets of what felt like a thousand thread count and a warmth to his right. Will froze instinctively, not wanting to wake the over man as he waited for his eyes to adjust.

As he’d predicted earlier, a quench of quilt rolled itself into his gut, prompting him further away from sleep. He slept with Hannibal, and not out of eventuality, but out of _distraction._ He used the man. Quite literally.

Will wanted to groan and shove his face into his hands. The worst part was that he _knew_ Hannibal didn’t mind. Hannibal probably knew exactly what was fucking happening but he didn’t do anything to sway it. Even when it was fully consensual on both side- and it most definitely was- it still didn’t feel right.

Will slowly shifted, sitting up and leaning over himself to shove his elbows against his knees and rest his palms to his eyes. God, he could be such a prick. And he knew that he had nothing to worry about because Hannibal Lecter always forgave him, always understood. _Always._

And Will didn’t deserve it at all.

He didn’t need to be doing this right now- illogically worrying himself up. He should be sleeping, or even just relaxing. He had enough to worry about without unnecessary guilt nipping at his ass.

Will laid back, exhaling a long breath, before shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw. Great, just great. Now he was going to be like this until morning, a distracted ball of nerves and exhaustion. He’d apologize, that’s all. It’d bring some piece to mind. But he still wanted to do this again. And again.

 _I really like him._ Will wanted to groan loudly and kick the blankets off to try and stop this trail of thought. Dammit, he’d run a marathon before he even bordered on this topic.

 

* * *

 

 

When Will next woke, Hannibal wasn’t beside him.

Warmth still clung to the spot, just faintly, so he couldn’t have been gone for very long. Will hadn’t been sure when he fell asleep, his own active brain had kept throwing endless thoughts at him to the point of incredible annoyance.

Will sat up, not wanting to walk around naked in a house he barely knew the way around, he leaned across the bed to grab his jeans from last night, frowning when he couldn’t find them. Sitting back up, he turned his gaze around the room. Right. So his clothes were gone.

Maybe Hannibal had folded them up and put them aside? Will knew that wasn’t true when he couldn’t easily spot them. With a huff of nervous breath, Will slide himself off to bed and crouched, checking under it. Also no.

Right, okay, in Hannibal’s house with no clothes. Will bit his lip, looking around for a closet instead. He quickly moved towards a door that must lead to one. Slowly pushing it open, there was no creaking of hinges, unlike the ones at Will’s home. Peeking in, Will felt his brows raise instinctively as he took in the colorful array of hanging suit jackets that accosted his gaze. A walk-in.

He peered around before stepping in and cautiously going towards the doors to his right. The first one held sock, the next underwear. Will frowned, debating. His hips were thinner then Hannibal’s, so he doubted that would work.

Lucky number three held some soft sweaters and pajama bottoms. Will grabbed the one on top, pin stripped dark blue and almond brown and pulled them on, thankful for some return of dignity. Although, he did have to tighten the drawstrings and knot them.

Will paused for a second, staring at a thinning red sweater in the drawer- a favorite seeing as it was the only thing in Hannibal’s home that seemed to being to wear, loose threads working their way in along the bottom. Will grabbed it before sliding shut the drawer, feeling the soft material in his grip, he could tell why the man liked it. He made quick work of pulling it on, enjoying the fact it was a little large on him but cozy none the less.

Will walked cautiously down the hallway to the stairs, forever cautious of his stiff leg, feet barely making any noise. It was almost eerie how Hannibal’s home made barely even the slightest noise, no creek of hinges, no squeak of floorboards, and Will knew nicer homes had the luxury of lacking things like that, but not to this degree- Will could probably full-scale run through this house and it wouldn’t even tremble.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Will went for the only place he could think of Hannibal possibly being. As he entered the dining room, the wonderful smell of eggs and crisp bacon washed into Will’s senses, making him inhale deeply and smile. Walking with more confidence, Will entered the kitchen to see Hannibal, also in pajama pants and a loose long-sleeved shirt, at the stove. When he saw Will he smiled.

“There is a coffee ready if you would like to help yourself.” He said with a smile before turning his attention back to the food on the stove. Will nodded, turning his attention to the counter, eyes running over it quickly till they landed on a drip coffee pot. He flat out grinned- he never figured Hannibal the type for something like drip, although it was a much nicer machine than he’d seen before, so he doubted it was going to be anything like the shitty FBI coffee he forced down.

“Mugs?” Will asked calmly.

“Cabinet in front of you.” Hannibal replied back, just as casually. Will leaned back and opened it, just avoiding the corner. We peered in at the array of organized mugs. A particular strangely _orange_ one caught his eye, reaching up slightly, he nudged it around with his fingers until he saw the handle which he used to take it down. Will examined it as he closed the cabinet again- it was probably the plainest thing Hannibal owned. And the brightest.

Will poured himself a good amount, leaving room for his sugar and cream. Turning from the counter, he left the mug on the corner of the island and turned now towards the fridge. Opening the one side, Will looked in- almost obsessively organized.

“Creamer?”

“Behind the milk.”

And it was, and for some unsurprising reason, it, just like the milk, was in a squared glass pitcher with a quaint little lid. Will grinned as he took it down from its place gently, it figures Hannibal wouldn’t be the type to keep it in the carton.

Pouring enough creamer, Will placed the container back in the fridge and shut it gently. “What are you cooking?” He asked, spotting the sugar container beside the coffee maker and carrying his coffee over there one more.

“A simple omelet with spinach and goat cheese. I presume you have no dairy allergies?” Hannibal responded, lowering the heat of the stove and turning to watch Will add a considerable amount of sugar to his coffee. For some reason he was in the mood for it to be sweeter than regular.

“Simple?” Will said, eyebrows raised and tossing Hannibal a grin before turning his attention back to his coffee. Hannibal, cluing in on Will’s problem, turned and took a few steps towards a drawer grab Will a spoon. When he offered it, Will smiled and murmured a quick ‘thanks.’

“But no,” Will continued, turning and leaning against the counter while taking a gulp of his coffee. “No dairy allergies.”

In his just-woken state, Will’s hair was mussy and his eyes slumped, he looked almost breathless and Hannibal couldn’t help but think of him like a puppy.

Hannibal, only then, just noticed Will was in his clothing. “I apologize,” Hannibal said with somewhat twisted expression – something that felt completely abnormal on his face- as he turned to get a plate from a different cabinet. “If I did not leave you anything to wear. You clothing is in the wash.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I like this sweater, and I can see why you do too.” Will responded, a small smile hooking his lips. When Hannibal turned, eyebrows raised in questioning, Will gestured with his free hand towards the garment. “It’s obviously well worn, been washed one too many times, it’s even fraying.” He laughed lightly. “And I doubt you’d keep anything frayed unless you liked it.”

Hannibal was in the middle of gently sliding the omelet onto the plate when he paused, the smile on his face slipping ever so slightly. Something in Will’s tone suggested that it wasn’t just talking about the sweater. “Is something on your mind, Will?”

Will was silent, whether it was because he had a mouthful of hot coffee or because he didn’t want to answer, Hannibal was unsure. Instead of pressing, Hannibal set the pan down back onto the stove and turned, plate in hand towards the island to set it down before moving for utensils.

“Is this for me or for you?” Will asked as he moved around the counter to take a seat, the smell seemingly dragging him along. Hannibal’s cooking always pulled through.

“I haven’t much of an appetite this morning, it appears, so please, help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Will replied, reaching for the plate and utensils and sliding them across the counter to be in front of him. Hannibal smiled slightly before turning to take the used dishes and put them in the sink, rinsing a sponge with warm water and soap, he began washing them.

It was contented silence for a few minutes, nothing more than the slightest sloshes of water or the clank of utensils.

“Why are you with me?” The question was so sudden, so casual and practically dripping with nonchalance to the point where Hannibal nearly missed Will saying it.

He frowned, turning slightly to see Will taking a drink from his coffee followed by a bite of his eggs. Hannibal would’ve thought he’d imagined the question if Will didn’t look up, meeting Hannibal’s eyes for the briefest second before turning his attention back to his breakfast.

“I am with you, because I like you.” Hannibal retorted just as simply.

Will made a disagreeing hum before placing his fork back down onto his plate. Propping his elbows onto the counter, he locked his fingers together and placed his chin upon them, narrowed eyes appraising Hannibal. “There are other people who like me, Hannibal, but not enough to stay with me after everything that’s happened.”

“Perhaps I like you more than others.” Hannibal said, turning back to the skin to turn off the running water and place the steel spatula he’d been washing into the drying rack. “May I ask you something Will?”

“Please.” He responded. The entire conversation held a strange undertone, both of their voices light and conversation, but it seemed like Will was trying to get something out of Hannibal, almost like poking a angry bear with a stick to see if it would pounce.

“I noticed last night that there is scarring that is much older than that of your recent accident.” Hannibal said, turning around to lean against the sink, pressing his fingers into the ledge behind him.

Will waved a hand nonchalantly, but the look in his eyes were anything but. It was a haunted, pained expression. He kept his tone flat as he replied. “When my dad died I was put into foster system. Some family weren’t… the _best_. To say the least.”

A burning rage flared in Hannibal, but he kept it hidden behind a frown and solemn eyes. “They beat you?”

“If you hit a skinny kid hard enough with a leather belt, it can split their skin.” Will said, giving an explanation that wasn’t asked for. He turned his eyes down to his plate, most of the omelet was eaten, but he pushed the plate gently away, his appetite lost.

“And the circular ones?” Hannibal murmured. He already had his suspicious, but the cold, almost dead look in Will’s eyes confirmed him. “Ashtray.”

Will hesitated again, and Hannibal new better then to speak, knowing even a breath could burst this surged burst of confident energy that bubbled from Will. “The one on my hip- you noticed it?”

“Naturally.”

“That,” he said with a sigh. “Was an accident. Fell from a tree. Dicking around one day after school because I didn’t want to go back to the home.”

“I am sorry that was done to you,” Hannibal said passively, taking the plate so he could scrape what’s left into the trash. He despised wasting food, but he could make an acceptance. “And that there was little to be done to stop it.”

Will laughed drily. “If I’d been less of a sarcastic little prick it might’ve been better.”

“Your defense mechanism.” Hannibal said, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and abandoning them there so as he could move around the counter and take a seat next to Will, placing his hand upon the man’s back. He felt him stiffen momentarily before the muscles underneath relaxed. “You are rude when you are scared.”

“And it’s never gotten me anywhere positive.” Will said with a sigh, shaking his head. He looked up at Hannibal, through his fluffy dark lashes and fly-away curls and there was an honest look in those eyes, something so _innocent_ and passive a sudden urge to crush it came upon him. He ignored it.

“You are somewhere positive now, Will.” Hannibal said, gently rubbing his back in small circles. Will sighed deeply, pressed his wrist into his eye before grumbling, “How can you possibly put up with me?”

“Through patience.” Hannibal said, then followed by the briefest hesitation before. “And love.”

“Are you saying you love me?” Will asked, looking over at Hannibal once more, slightly surprised by what he’s heard. Hannibal looked almost bashful under the scrutiny. “I believe I am.”

“I have no idea how to say that back.” Will said, blunt and honest. Hannibal huffed a laugh, a soft smile on his face.

“I expected as much. I did not say it to hear it back, I said it so you know.”

“Ever the gentlemen.” Will said with a snort before grinning up at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of taking the high road?”

If only Will knew. The smile that curled Hannibal’s lips was on that could mimic the Mona Lisa, a complete mask of hidden sincerity and unnamed secrets, pure confusion to look at.  “Quite the contrary.” He replied placidly. “I commonly enjoy to take the low road.”

“You?” Will said, eyebrows raised, dubious in the idea that Hannibal could ever do such a thing. “That’s something I’d like to see.”

“Maybe one day you shall.” Hannibal said, continuing on that devious smile as he stood, walking past Will and running his hand over his shoulders as he did. “You’re smart man, you’ll figure things out in the end.”

Will watched Hannibal pad across the room before he paused to smile over his shoulder at Will. “Although I do enjoy the sight of you in my clothing, I believe yours are finished washing. Feel free to use my shower if you please.”

And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Beverly didn’t get a funeral. She was cremated, her siblings then were taking the ashes to Canada. Apparently there was a bridge she’s specifically wanted them to be poured off of. Will would miss her.

When he arrived in Wolftrap, Will was pleased to see the distinct fresh footprints in the snow that had meant the neighbor had already come by to feed the dogs. Will knew it’d been a grand favor, especially at the time he’d called, but she’d understood. She always did.

Hannibal followed behind Will, making sure he didn’t become unbalanced in the damn ground, especially since the most of his weight was balanced on the crutch he hated so much. The sooner he got a cane, the better. Luckily, Hannibal had remembered the thing and practically forced it into Will’s irritated hands.

Will scratched absentmindedly at the scar tissue on his face. It strung dryly, but he ignored it and he rummaged for his keys, Hannibal following behind him. Hannibal had put up with Will fantastically, proving exactly how patient the man was. Will intended to make him dinner as thanks, or perhaps just offer him wine, or blow him on his couch. Really anything.

Will’s mutts frolicked happily about him, taking a minute to realize Hannibal was there also and bombing him with unwarranted affection.

“If you want to make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to go upstairs and change.”

The ascend up the stairs wasn’t horrible, the crutch’s base making a god awful clunking noise as he went. When he reached the top, one of the three doors- Abigail’s doors- caught his eyes. He stood staring for just a second, resisting the odd urge to reach out and touch it, before sliding into his own room.

Changing had been a bit weird since the accident, he had to work more with his pants legs, and had started thinking about jumping to the next size up so they’d bee looser and easier to remove- all he’d need is a belt to keep them up and it wasn’t like he wasn’t already frumpy enough.

When he shambled downstairs, it was to find Hannibal had shedded his coat and sat down. Outside, the wind howled ominously against the small building. Will liked it when Hannibal looked more casual- looser simple slacks, warm knit sweaters with soft button downs. Having seen the peacock armor he commonly wore for the display of others, it was nice to know the man was relaxed around Will.

It was still a mystery to him why Hannibal, of all people, would be interested in him, especially after the warping of his accident, most definitely making him undesirable to many.

And yet, Hannibal wasn’t ‘many’, and the proof of that still clung to the soreness of his lower back and the light suck marks dotted over his neck and collarbone. Will couldn’t help but grin a little to himself. He understood Hannibal, in a strange way to say the least, but not when it came to himself. The Man’s interest in his was unwarranted but entirely appreciated.

“So, I resume you’re not a beer and pizza kinda guy.” Will said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So I’m thinking of trying to make something. Would you like to help me- for both of our sakes?”

Hannibal’s smile was slow, but widened to show the faint glimmer of sharp teeth. “I would be honored to.”

Will snorted. “You shouldn’t be. I’ll burn everything and the fire alarm will annoy the shit out of you, and if not that, the dogs barking at it doesn’t help.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “Experience?”

Will sighed deeply. “Yeah. Tarragon chicken?”

Hannibal looks delighted at the mention, as Will expected he would. Truth was, the previous owner had apparently enjoyed herbs and had a mix-match garden not too far from the house, as they became too old to take care of it, it grew wild and spread. Tarragon was a regular and rather _irritating_ occurrence.

“Have you made such a recipe before?” Hannibal asked, moving from his place on the couch to approach Will.

“Yes, actually.” _And I didn’t fuck it up too badly, so that’s why I’m suggesting it._

“Wonderful, then we shall do it together.” Hannibal said, wandering into the open kitchen area to appraise the comforting room.

“We’ll have to pick it fresh.” Will added lightly, grinning. “The tarragon, I mean.”

Hannibal looked even more pleased by this, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes are endearing and his happiness is such a beautiful, tangible thing Will wants to taste it. So he does, talking across the form in long strides, hooking his hand up behind Hannibal’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Hannibal responded with his usual heat and intensity, running one hand into Will’s hair and the other onto his back to press two fingers into this dip of his spine.

When they broke apart, breathing a little heavier, Hannibal pressed his forehead against Will’s and huffed slightly. “Rather unexpected of you, Will.”

“You could tell I was about to kiss you the moment you met my gaze.” Will said blandly, rubbing the hair at the base of Hannibal’s neck, soft and smooth like velvet.

“So tarragon chicken.” Hannibal said, and Will snorted. Neither of them moved, still pressed up against each other, rather latching onto each other instead of hugging. Will noticed belatedly Hannibal was rocking slightly, something he seemed to do whenever he held Will.

“I think I have a few old bottles of wine you can look through, find something that matches.” Will murmured before pressing a quick kiss to Hannibal’s lips.

“And dessert?” Hannibal responded before he was kissed briefly again.

Will broke away from him, eyes crinkled and grin wide, mischievous. “I think you already know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Throws glitter] We're getting near the end! I only predict seven chapters more at the most, three at the least. What i have planned with basically piss all of you off and make you need fluff for the next aprox. nine years.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham becomes a suspect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got back from Quebec/Nova Scotia/Montreal yesterday. It was one hell of a week and i dicked around a lot. The car trips inbetween were brutal.  
> Anyways, unbeta'd and sorry for the wait, it's not super long either.

_A Month Later_

Will is packing up his briefcase as the last few students trickle from his classroom when it happens.

By _it_ , naturally, he means the approach of Jack Crawford, with purpose in his step and determination in his narrow eyes. Will hadn't seen the man since the accident, from what he'd heard, Jack blamed himself for it.

That theory was further concreted by his apparent inability to look at Will's face, a permanent reminder of what had happened. Stares and whispers were traded when Will had arrived back at the academy, and apparently the story of the two FBI agents who'd been “ _maimed_ ” in a chase after a serial killer was lead quickly back to him via Freddie Lounds.

Beverly's name remained unmentioned in the article. Will figured Jack must've bribed Freddie somehow for that small respect.

Either way, Jack had been distant, giving Will his time, and it was obvious the man wouldn't be here if he didn't desperately need Will. And it was obvious that only one case could be the one that sent Jack crawling back to the surly profile.

The Chesapeake Ripper.

"Last night." Jack said with a defeated sigh as he passed the case file over into Will's already expecting hand. "Daniel Johannes, thirty-four. Missing for nearly four weeks now. Wife found the body."

Will raised his eyebrows, looking up at Jack from the case file. "Wife?"

"Unusual for the Ripper," Jack said with another sigh. "Believe me, I know. The man was practically hung up like a Christmas decoration."

That he was, unlike the bathtub victim, he was hung above his bed, toes just grazing the lavender colored sheeting. The Ripper had gone through the painstaking process of putting a hook into the ceiling just to do so. But the body itself was what made Will's face ride up with surprise.

"We had to identify him but finger prints," Jack said, apparently having seen the expression on many faces as they saw the body for the first time. "Although Mrs. Johannes was very adamant on who the corpse was."

Will stared intently, it was most definitely the Ripper, the artistry of it all screamed of him. The front of the skull had been knocked in and removed, as had the brain, and been replaced with flourishing red blossoms and small Lilys of The Valley.

The chest had something similar done to it, the front of the ribcage surgically removed as well as the organs incased in it. This time it was roses, a variety of pinks and reds with what looked like the occasional tiger lily.

"This is the Ripper." He said flatly, eyes wandering the naked body. It glimmered slightly and he frowned, wondering if it was just the photograph, but as he narrowed his eyes, it didn't seem right.

"I see you've noticed that." Jack said dully, hands in pockets as he watched Will.

"Yes, and it may seem like a leap to say but that looks like-"

"Varnish?" Jack finished for him, and Will looked up, a crease pressed between his brows. Jack stared with that exhausted, knowing look Will was more than familiar with. "It is. Entire body is covered in it. It's making a delay for Jimmy and Brian."

"So if you know it's the Ripper, what do you need from me?" Will said, a confused frown on his face. Jack's mouth was curved slightly, easily being mistaken for a smile by many. But not Will. He’d seen that expression too many times, and his stomach clenched at the prospect of what followed.

"Look in the file." It's a simple request, all too casual, and Will stares a little longer at Jack across his desk, scrutinizing his suddenly placid stance over his glasses rim. Finally, he opens the file and turns his gaze to it. Eyes skimming the pages, he found nothing important before he landed on a small informal box about the varnish. Will's breath caught slightly.

Marine Varnish. Commonly used for _boats_.

Will instantly looked up at Jack and narrowed his eyes. "What are you really doing here Jack."

Jack remained placid, watching Will and every move he made. Jack had come alone, so that was a good sign for Will, although he was more than sure Jack wouldn't even break a sweat if a fight would arise between the two men if Will decided to run.

"This is the last family member of the Calling Card." Jack declared casually and Will's teeth instantly set themselves on edge as his fingers tightened around the file in his hand, creasing it slightly as Jack continued. "Naturally we didn't know this until he was brought to the lab for a DNA test, but it was a close match."

"A lost sibling perhaps?" Will said casually, trying not to grit his teeth as he talked. Jack started to move, placing slightly as he watched Will with intense eyes.

"Perhaps. Or maybe he knew him. Of course we can’t exactly ask him." Jack said before pausing, narrowing his eyes, he looked up at Will and pointed his finger. There was no accusation in the gesture, but Will wanted to reach out and slap it aside. "You felt for Beverly like a sibling, didn't you?"

"Jack." Will growled in warning, but the man wasn't holding back.

"His legs were broken Will." Jack said, eyes locking onto Will's and holding them there. "Those injuries sound familiar?" A look was shot towards the cane leaning against Will's desk.

"No." He replied bitterly. "Only one of my legs were broken."

"And yet your face and ribs maintained the most damage, didn't they? Nearly smashed inwards I recall."

"I don't know Jack, I don't look in the mirror a lot these days." Will snapped back fiercely.

"Abigail and Hannibal both confirmed you were distant and cold after the accident Will, spent a lot of time alone and left the house to unknown locations." Jack said, throwing that tidbit at Will so suddenly he spluttered.

"You were _talking_ to them?" Cold, burning anger flickered to life in his chest as his face screwed up into an expression of betrayed disgust.

"They were concerned. And so am I, Will. I read Marissa's report." Jack added the last part as if it was important, but in reality it just tossed more coals onto the fire brewing within Will.

"Are you accusing me of murdering _her_ now?" Will growled, and when Jack raised his eyebrows Will scoffed. "Don't act stupid Jack, I know what you doing here."

"And what exactly am I doing here, Will?" Jack quipped, and Will fired back instantly.

"A Ripper victim shows up who just so _happens_ to have injuries that reflect mine, and they’re on a relative of the man who tried to kill me.” Will said dryly. “And if that’s not enough, he’s covered in boat varnish, something I own copious amount of because I work on _boats.”_

Will punctuated his sentence by tossing the case file onto his desk with enough force it slid across to hang precariously on the ledge in front of Jack. "This is pointless Jack, and you know it, besides,” Will sarcastically held up his cane. "I'm crippled, how could I possibly overpower him, kill him, and spend copious amounts of _time_ covering him in _boat varnish_ and _flowers_ when I didn’t know he existed?”

"Exactly." Jack said, placing his hands on Will's desk and leaning forward. Will held his ground under the almost accusing glare. Jack was digging, and right now, Will was all but throwing him shovels. "As you said, this is a _Ripper kill_."

The suggestion in his voice made Will's lip curl. Was Jack serious? "You believe I've teamed up with the Ripper."

"It's just a possibility." Jack said smoothly, leaning back out of Will’s space and brushing off the whole thing as the other man practically had fumes coming off of him, his anger potent in the air. "You know how cases work, Will, we have to explore _all_ possibilities."

"How could you possibly think this?" Will said in utter disbelief. "You're smarter than this, Jack. The Ripper plays with people, that’s what he does, and this is just probably another attempt to poke you Jack."

"Think about it Will, _nobody_ has ever been closer to catching the Ripper then you- _understanding_ the Ripper. What if you've already found him? Or if he found you? I’m sure with you knowledge you could easily barter with his insanity. Think about it, Will.”

"I have thought about it, for whole two seconds, and it's ridiculous." Will said simply stepping away from Jack and shaking his head. "You sound like Freddie Lounds- In fact, you should bring this theory to her, no doubt she’d _love_ it. Now if you'll excuse me."

Will slammed his briefcase shut and grabbed his cane from where he’d placed it, moving around his desk and stepping down from its elevated platform, he gave Jack the cold shoulder as he leant heavily against the cane and began his limping path from the room. Of course, that was also interrupted.

"Where were you last night?" Will knew it was a last poke, and last grab for anything that could possibly connect Will to this, and he paused beside Jack. Will turned, moving into Jack's space so swiftly it seemed to have even taken jack aback, even if he didn’t show it. It was an act of dominance and defiance, and Will gritted his teeth, glaring up at Jack.

"In bed." He spat.

"Can anybody confirm this?" _Are you kidding?_

"Yes.” Will said, trying not to be irritated by how Jack’s eyebrows raised almost as if he couldn’t believe the possibility. If it wasn’t such a serious moment, Will would’ve snorted. “Hannibal Lecter, who was sleeping _right_ beside me. If you want to confirm this, I’m sure you have his number.”

Will turned, giving Jack no time to reply and he all but marched from the room. When he reached the doorway, he called back. "I'm not working with the Ripper, Jack."

“Stay in town, Will.” Jack called back, not having moved from where Will had left him.

Will may not have been working with the Ripper, but he sure as hell understood him. Especially now more than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

Home quickly became a questionable subject to Will.

Wolftrap had quickly lost the feeling of solitude and comfort, and time spent there was brief and tiring, although when Will reflected back upon it, it seemed to have always felt way, Abigail and the responsibility of his mutts consistently drawing him back and giving his quaint home purpose.

But even now he found himself mulling over the idea of giving the animal’s new homes. Older couples had a tendency for more laid back pets, and he didn't want the lively animals to spend the rest of their days being accidentally neglected. It was beginning to seem like it was for the best.

Meanwhile, Hannibal became a reoccurring fixture in Will's life, their relationship was official and undeniable, and it was almost amusing how Will had spent his life shying away from psychiatrists only to end up in the arms of one almost every night. It made for interesting conversation of course, metaphors and riddles passed between the two as they talked about a multitude of subjects, many of which dark and disturbing. The sex was fantastic as well, hard muscles and clever tricks leaving the two a sweaty tangle of limbs on more than many occasions.

Hannibal had also persuaded Will into calling Jimmy Price, saying that he was one of the only few that could relate emotional grievances with Will when it came to Ms. Katz. Jimmy had been surprised when he'd received the called, not expecting Will to even have his number let alone bother to attempt any contact, but they still talked quietly, recalling some fond memories that made them both smile. When Jimmy ended up in tears, the phone was quickly handed off to Brian, who was unsurprisingly there. Their relationship, although mostly secret, was as solid and Will and Hannibal’s.

When all talking had ended, condolences shared, Will hung up, and put the pain behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a chilly February morning when Hannibal casually brought up the idea of Will moving in as they ate their breakfast, a warm batch of crescent rolls sided by cold cuts and fine cheeses. Will in particular, had taken to putting grape jelly on his, something that amused Hannibal to no end.

"I wouldn't have much to bring." Will had murmured in response to Hannibal, eyes flitting over the newspaper in his hand that wasn’t holding a fresh batch of coffee. "Some clothes. Fishing gear. My dogs."

He grinned when Hannibal wrinkled his nose slightly at the mention of his mutts. "Relax, I’ve been pondering the idea of freeing them from my rein of dog owning terror."

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at Will’s sudden confession and couldn’t help but laugh, smiling as he watched Will huff at his own dry humor. He took a sip of his own coffee, practically white compared to the darkness of Will’s. "Why have you been pondering such an idea?"

"They deserve more attention. More love. I’ve been distracted and in a short amount of time my entire routine was torn up and tossed out. The more disorganized I get, the more distracted I get. They don’t deserve to be neglected because some freak is hanging people from the ceiling.”

"I do not think parting will be simple," Hannibal responded instead, trying to ignore Will’s comment about the Ripper being a ‘freak’. Will sighed in agreement.

"I gave them a better life. They're loyalty to me is strong, and because of that they'll agree and go without problem." Will looked up at Hannibal with a small smile. “Dogs aren’t like people Hannibal, they comply and they love without question.”

Hannibal nodded, reaching a hand across the countertop to squeeze Will's, causing the newspaper he held in it to wrinkle slightly. "I am proud of your decision then, Will. I know these animals mean a lot to you."

Will snorted. "Don't be that proud, I'm still keeping Buster and Winston."

Hannibal sighed, leaning back into his space. "I figured as much."

 

* * *

 

 

Much like Christmas, Valentine's went ignored, although to feed Hannibal's consistent and surprising need to make things ironic, the man served Will beef heart that night. When Hannibal had told him, dinner would be a surprise, Will had stubbornly bugged him for hours about it before spitefully saying that he was planning dessert in that case, much to Hannibal’s confusion and defeat.

Dinner had been served, and Will had gone out while it’d been cooked, coming back in with flushed pink cheeks and wind wild hair. He’d changed, naturally, but the storm outside attested to his slightly mussed appearance. They ate without hesitation, the heart cooked tender and slightly sweet under a cream sauce.

After dinner, Will dragged Hannibal upstairs. Dessert involved strawberries and whip cream, but the only sweet thing either of them devoured that night was each other.

February bled into March, and the Ripper still didn't show his face, leaving the scales tipping and fingers pointed. Will could flat out say he probably would've been arrested under suspicion long before then if it wasn't for Jack's trust in him, but that was also waning.

Will finally told Hannibal of the events of last month, bitterness laced his tone over Jack's judgement. Hannibal had taken his side, agreeing that Jack was jumping to conclusions based off small details. Luckily Will missed the burning rage behind Hannibal's dark eyes over Will’s false accusation.

 

* * *

 

 

The next Ripper victim appears, and Will is dragged away in the middle of class to see the fresh crime scene. Alana Bloom gives him a sympathetic smile as she passes by him and quickly picks up on the lesson he was giving about a serial killer who had traumatized the downtown area of Chicago.

Jack waited by his FBI regulated black SUV in the parking lot, and as Will approached, he turned his gaze on him. Will frowned. “What’s going on Jack?”

“The Ripper dropped a body, and it’s practically on your doorstep.” Jack said, arms crossed as he leaned against the car. This only made Will frown deeper. “What do you mean?”

“Linda Baker. Forty-Seven. Found on the road side.”

Will’s eyes widened in surprise. “Linda?”

Linda Baker had been the woman who lived down the road from Will, the one he paid to feed his dogs while he was away. She’d been riddled with early arthritis pain and said that the walk was good for her, as was the generous amount of money Will provided as courtesy so that she could have extra help for her pain medication.

Will’s mood instantly turned from surprise to cold anger. “You think I did this?” he hissed out instantly, narrowing his eyes on Jack.

“No.” He said simply, and Will didn’t tense any less. “ _I_ don’t. I think she was left as a warning to you from the Ripper. _But,”_ He said with a sigh, and Will’s heart jumped. “I am being persuaded to put you into protective custody if this happens again, and not only for your own safety.”

Will snorted. “They want to monitor me now? How do you even know it’s the Ripper.”

“We don’t always need your abilities to tell, Will.” Jack said dryly, and Will riled up instantly.

“You mean they don’t want me on the crime scene. Of course.”  Will said, running a hand through his hair. “So you pulled me out of class to what, inform me that my dog caretaker is dead now too and everyone is going to continue pointing fingers?”

“We don’t have any evidence towards you, Will.” Jack said gently. “Just suspicion.”

“Suspicion backed up by logic.” Will said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Do you have any photos?”

Jack stiffened. “You know I can’t Will.”

“You can, Jack.” Will said flatly. “You have before. Besides I don’t think it’s a warning.”

This made jack frown, a crease working itself between his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

“Jack,” Will said on a humorless laugh. “The Ripper doesn’t want me _dead,_ I’m the only one who understands him. The more I dig into his skull and the more brain matter I find, the more attention he gets. He likes the thrill, the knowing I’m so close and at any second could reveal him. He’s an animal, Jack, primal and instinctive and a complete predator. Think of him like a lion, he’ll let us close to his habitat, but the minute we step foot in his territory, you’ll get bit.”

“So that makes you the lion tamer?” Jack said, eyebrows raised.

Will hesitates, mouth slightly open as he mulls this over before setting his teeth together and giving a short shrug. “I appears so.”

Jack sighs. Turning, he leans in the open passenger side window and retrieves a brown paper file, turning he glances at Will, who tries not to show is smug amusement. When Will reaches out to take the offered file, Jack jerks it back just out of his fingertips and purposefully meets his eyes. “Not a word of this to anyone. This is a privilege.”

“Understood. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

Jack nods and walked around the car. Will watches as he leaves and sighs. Alana is now in control of his class, and with a half hour to kill and a file to look over, he has nothing better to do.

He finds himself walking, hands in his pockets. Coffee, maybe, sounded nice.

A small smile curls his lips as he remembers the quaint little coffee shop where he met Hannibal- he hadn’t been there for a while. It’s be a twenty minute walk, and he didn’t really care about being late back.

Coffee and murder photographs. It almost felt like the beginning again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally asked my mom "hey what's sexier, whip cream or chocolate sauce" and she went on a twenty minute rant about the both and permanently scarred her asexual child so i give up a lot of things for this story
> 
> Anyway, not much longer now, and i promise Will is gonna be okay and nobody will try to arrest him bc Hannibal would bit their fingers off.
> 
>  
> 
> HAPPY FANNIBAL APPRECIATION DAY!! YOU GUYS ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL, FREE SPIRITS AND WE ALL DESERVE SOME LOVIN'!!  
> (for information, go here -> http://idontfindyouthatinteresting.co.uk/post/127273465680/as-part-of-this-weeks-celebrations-its-time-to )


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is dealing with some issues; He and Hannibal break in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao since i'm in Canada and i hate myself i watched the season finale and yes i am dead i dont exist this is my ghost and i'm sad and scared and oddly happy by all this so i figured, hey, get better soon porn.  
> Unbeta'd.

“And now, if the Ripper pulls this again, I’m going into protective custody.”

Will punctuated that tired, exasperated statement by placing his mug down so hard on the counter, it rang slightly and liquid sloshed slightly over it. Frowning down at the coffee on his hand and the countertop, Will frowned. “Sorry.”

“Not at all.” Hannibal murmured, a dishtowel in hand within seconds, passing it over to Will so he could wipe up the area. “I understand your frustration.”

Will snorted. “Have you ever been in protective custody?”

It was a sarcastic question, not real meaning to it especially since the answer was an obvious one, but Hannibal still replied. “I have no, although I know that for someone of your particular stance, it will be exceedingly difficult.”

“You mean having someone stalk me everywhere?” Will said with a snort, watching as Hannibal went to the fridge to retrieve another vegetable for whatever he was cooking. “That would definitely put a damper on our sex life.”

Hannibal shut the fridge door, fresh radishes in hand and arched a brow at Will, who grinned sheepishly at his own humor. At his feet, Winston shifted, rolling onto his belly. Hannibal had _allowed_ Will to bring his mutts over that night, Will describing it as a “test trial”.

Hannibal’s cat, a skittish sphinx, had approached Winston’s muzzle as he slept earlier. At the exact same time, both men had gone still and watched the situation play out. She had batted Winston awake with a slim paw, looking irritated when he didn’t respond, and out of spite had, quite literally, sat on him.

In defeat, she left, but not after Hannibal dropped a small carrot cube onto the floor for her.

“That would be a pity.” Hannibal responded, sliding a bamboo cutting board with a knife place on it across the counter so it sat in front of Will, who didn’t question it at all. He actually enjoyed helping Hannibal in the kitchen. He accepted the handful of radishes he was given before Hannibal turned back to the stove to stir the broth simmering in the pot.

Will is in the middle of cutting a radish, biting his lip in concentration and holding the small circular vegetable still as he leaned over it to see his every perfect movement, when Hannibal’s doorbell, as dark and ominous as the house, rings out.

What wasn’t expected as both Will and Hannibal look up, was for Winston to leap to his paws directly under Will’s legs, nearly dislodging him from his stool and sending the knife down hard through the radish and onto the tip of his thumb.

With the food on the stove, Winston’s incessant barking, a person at the door, and now Will’s throbbing and bleeding finger, Will suddenly understood Hannibal’s distaste for larger, nosier animals.

While Winston shot off from the kitchen to join Buster at the door, Hannibal quickly circled the counter to Will, gently taking his wrist and holding it up, he led his partner to the sink to run warm water over it. Will ignored the way the blood as already swirled down his wrist and left drops behind them on the floor as they went.

“Go get the door, I’ll be fine.” Will hissed, glancing up at Hannibal and seeing the faint concern lining his eyes. Placing his free hand on Hannibal’s chest, he pressed a quick kiss to his lips and smiled in what he hoped looked like a reassuring manor. “It’s fine Hannibal.”

With a quick nod, Hannibal handed him a dishtowel to use once he took his hand out from under the water, and left the room. Will gently pulled his throbbing finger out from the water to investigate his injury. The knife had gone halfway through the tip of his thumb before he pulled it out, the blade having just scrapped the ending edge of his fingernail. He grimaced as more blood bubbled up instantly and wrapped the towel around it, squeezing it tight so as to keep pressure.

When Will heard what _had_ to be Alana’s voice, he frowned. Why would she be here?

His curiosity getting the better of him, Will wandered out of the kitchen, towel still wrapped tightly around his thumb, heading in the direction of the voices. When Will entered the living area, he saw not only Alana but Jack.

“Hello Will.” Jack said in greeting over Alana’s bent back. She’d leaned over to pet Winston, a wide grin on his face as she did. Will turned his attention back to Jack with a frown. “I figured I might find you here.”

“Then you figured right.” Will said dryly as he moved to stand beside Hannibal. It was an obvious move for balance, Hannibal supply an anchor and kind of bodyguard for Will. Jack knew when to stop with Hannibal, but not really with Will, so having the other wan present was a blessing to the empath.

Alana straightened, her smiling fading into a smaller, more appropriate one. “It’s good to see you Will.”

“Good to see you too, Alana.” He said blandly, a pressed smile of his own appearing briefly before he turned to look at Jack. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Hannibal did, asking the question he’d planned to. “May I ask the reason of your visit?”

“We’re sorry if we’re interrupting it’s-” Alana had begun, but was cut off by Jack, who gave her a swift look as he spoke. “You said you would call, Will.”

Jack turned his gaze slowly from Alana to Will, maintaining the same false smile and simple eyed expression that dug under Will’s skin in a most irritating way. “It’s only been a day, Jack. I’ve barely looked at the file.”

“Barely? You’re much more efficient than that, Will.” Jack chided and Will sighed, deeply and loudly. It was the closest he could get to leaning his head back and groaning without seeming like a _complete_ ass.

“I’ve got classes and homework to plan too.” Will jibed sharply, narrowing a glare onto Jack before continuing. “It’s definitely a message, her body was tied between the two trees, although I doubt it was any form of metaphor, more his unavoidable need to bring artistry to his work.”

“And the message?” It was Alana who questioned this time, and Will restrained another sigh before answering. “That he knows where I live and who I’m in contact with, even if it’s the smallest of persons.”

Jack released an irritated breath, reaching one gloved hand up to rub at his eyes in irritation. “You mean to tell me the Ripper not only knows where you live, but also who you talk to?”

“Which also means he could get into your personal information, couldn’t he?” Alana questioned, worry lining her brow. When Jack gave her a confused but elaborating look, she continued with a slight wave of her hand. “His bank accounts, internet history, employment files, any of Will’s personal identities can be linked through his address and home phone.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jack growled, turning his gaze back once more onto Will, who would’ve stepped back from it before, but not now, especially with Hannibal’s warm palm having settled into the small of his back in a reassuring matter. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Will shrugged nonchalantly. “I was with Hannibal, I was safe.”

“He’s a damn _psychiatrist_!” Jack exclaimed in exasperation, “Not a trained FBI agent who has years of protection experience behind them!”

Will felt Hannibal stiffen, insulted by Jack’s undermining words. “I assure you Jack,” Hannibal said smoothly, an underlying anger riddled into his supposedly calm voice. “That Will is in good care under my hands.”

“I agree with Hannibal, Jack.” Alana said suddenly, drawing all eyes to her as she glanced up at Jack with a small frown. “He’s accomplished enough to defend himself, and you’re forgetting that _Will_ has had years of protection experience behind him.”

Jack huffed, looking between the three with mild annoyance. Finally, he seemed to give in, turning his eyes onto Will, he said, “Fine. You stay here with Hannibal. Until we’re sure the Ripper would come to your home and try to finish the job.”

“Can I at least go and get some things?” Will asked, arms crossed tightly and eyebrows raised. He hadn’t much noticed he’d leaned into Hannibal’s side until Alan’s eyes grazed over them in an affectionate manner.

“Fine.” Jack snapped, turning to Hannibal now instead. “You go with him.”

Hannibal inclined his head in agreement and Will nodded to that. “Tomorrow then, after we’ve gotten the groceries.”

Hannibal hummed slightly, letting the silence fill between the four of them before Will sighed and announced that he was off to bandage his hand. Much to Hannibal’s surprise, he leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the room.

Jack waited until he was gone before turning to Hannibal. “How is he?”

“He is fine, Jack, although I believe that is a question you should be asking him yourself.” Hannibal replied smoothly, unimpressed by Jack’s pressing. He and Will had been enjoying their evening, Will in soft denim and Hannibal’s red sweater while the man himself had already changed into his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Something Will highly approved seeing him in.

Jack nodded, ducking his head slightly before looking back up at Hannibal again, once more in a professional stance, he stuck out his hand to shake the Doctors. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Lecter, I’m sorry for interrupting your evening.”

Hannibal shook Jack’s hand respectively and was genuinely surprised to receive a quick hug from Alana. As the two left, Hannibal couldn’t help but ask, “Alana, could I have a moment?” She paused, frowning, and nodded her head towards jack before saying. “Of course.”

Jack respectively left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click as Alana approached her colleague curiously, stopping a few feet from him. Hannibal cocked his head, appraising her intelligent velvet blue eyes. “May I ask why Jack decided to bring you along?”

“He figured if I was here you and Will would be more responsive then if it was him alone.” She said honestly, her lips settling into a firm, disapproving line.

“Equals in stance.” Hannibal mused and Alana nodded, hands tucked into her damp jacket’s pocket.

“Can I ask what happened to Will’s hand? I noticed it bleeding.” She asked in returned and Hannibal sighed lightly. “I am afraid Winston’s response to the doorbell caused Will’s knife to slip.”

Alana raised her eyebrows, a smile curving her lips. “He was helping you cook?”

Hannibal laughed at her amusement, a smile of his own playing his features. “He is not so bad at it, if I must be honest.”

“That’s good. I did tell him before you two got together that if anyone could make a good cook out of him, it was you.” She said, her smile widening to crinkle the corner of her eyes. Hannibal smiled in returned. Alana had always been good company, bright and sweet, she was also powerful and determined, always a step ahead and if not, she was biding her time for a reason.

“Anyway,” She said, swaying slightly so the bottom of her jacket fanned out slightly where it ended at her knees. “I have to get home and feed Applesauce. Take care of yourself Hannibal. And Will.”

“Goodnight Alana.” He said good-naturedly, watching her go. He waited until she was gone before heading back to the kitchen, where the broth for tomorrow’s dinner simmered on low.

Hannibal’s eyes crept over to the cutting board where the radishes lay in a pool of blood left by Will’s injury. It was deep no doubt, and Hannibal would take it upon himself to see it healed properly, but it was all too tempting.

Turning quickly, Hannibal retrieved some paper towels from the pantry to wipe the useless blood drops from the floor. The blood on the board… he smiled slightly as he picked it up, investigating the thinly sliced radishes upon it. It would be a pity to put them to waste, and even if it was a little under what we required, he didn’t mind. Moving over to the broth, Hannibal scraped vegetables and the liquid remnants of Will’s blood into the pot before placing the board into the sink. Giving the dish a quick stir, Hannibal placed the lid on it, turned it onto its lowest setting, and headed for the steps upstairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Will Graham could never get tired of waking up beside Hannibal.

Having lived alone most of his adult life, waking up beside a warm body often meant one of his dogs, or an awkward lay of some sort that ensured Will would hide in the shower until they left. But with Hannibal, it was different. Intimate. He’d never get tired of the long fingered hand pressed gently into his hip, or the man’s chest tucked up against his back.

Even when they both wanted space while they slept, they never lacked the feeling that only physical intimacy could bring. Will could very well go without touching Hannibal for the rest of his life as long as he got to feel this potent, raw connection that hummed between them like a livewire.

It was this morning in particular, the Will had rolled over to find Hannibal already awake, narrow eyes watching him. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’.” Will murmured in response, stretching his legs under the warm comforter only to find himself blocked, frowning, Will propped himself up slightly upon his elbows, a sleepy frown on his face as he narrowed his eyes against the sunlight shining through the windows.

Buster lay curled on Will’s side of the bed, while Winston had taken the comfortable shag carpet on Hannibal’s side of the bed. Will turned his face towards Hannibal, eyebrows raised, and the other man only smiled and contained his laughter.

Will made a grumpy noise, letting himself fall back onto the cushion with a ‘ _humph_ ’ noise and rolling over to snuggle against Hannibal’s chest, pawing at the hair he found there. “I have to go get my things today.”

“Indeed you do.” Hannibal murmured in response, working one arm under Will’s side so as to pull him closer. “I am instructed to come.”

“Looks like Jack did put me in protective custody.” Will said with a laugh, leaning his head up to leave a quick peck against Hannibal’s throat. “Yours.”

“I highly doubt that is a bad one to be in.” Hannibal responded dryly and Will snorted, continuing to leave small kisses over Hannibal’s throat.

“I don’t know,” Will hummed gently. “You can be _very_ protective.”

“Are you calling me overprotective, Will?” Hannibal murmured in response. He sounded more amused than anything, so Will decided it was safe to answer. “Yes.”

Hannibal shifted, ducking down so he could catch Will’s lips in his for a hungry, hot kiss that sent shivers down Will’s spine and straight to his groin. Will groaned audibly, scooting forward in the search for friction to ease his sudden erection.

It was only when he found it that he remembered, pulling back from Hannibal he made a frustrated noise. “What time is it?”

Hannibal opened his eyes to blink down at Will, suddenly stiff from surprise before he frowned and rolled over to look. “Nine thirty four.”

“Crap. I usually feed the dogs at nine twenty. They’ll be grumpy later if I don’t do it now. Sorry.” Will added the apology quickly as he sat up and tossed the sheets aside, he ducked down to feel around for his pants.

“No need to apologize.” Hannibal said, stifling a yawn as he also sat up, watching Will hop slightly as he pulled up his pants. “I can make us some coffee if you’d like.”

“That’d be great.” He said, giving Hannibal a sheepish grin over his shoulder as he stood before he turned to address his mutts, who’d both began to rise at the commotion of their master. “Buster, Winston, c’mon, food time.”

Buster was off the bed in an instant while Winston, old and more tired, took a second to stretch before trotted after Will, who’d pushed the partially closed bedroom door wider and left, beginning his descend down the stairs, cooing to the dogs to follow all the way.

Hannibal sighed again, rubbing his eyes, and wondered vaguely, if this is what was going to happen every day. He almost wanted to be bitter about it but was unable to.  He loved Will far too much to let some petty yet annoying details come in the way, and it was no doubt Will did the same for Hannibal constantly.

Things were going as much his way as they were Will’s, the two of them like two sides of the same coin. It was a comforting yet odd feeling, and Hannibal could very well tell that if there was anybody he’d spend the rest of his days with, it’d be the charming man with the messy behead and tendency for dogs and flannel.

No matter how ridiculous that was.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t worry about getting mud or snow on the floor.”  Will said as he stepped into the small cabin he called home, Hannibal following him in and shutting the door with a click. “I doubt any more salt damage could be done to the floors then there already is.”

“Do you know what you need?” Hannibal asked curiously as he still took off his shoes despite what Will said. Will, now feeling obligated, did the same with his boots, pulling off his jacket he dropped it onto the coat hanger and offered to do the same for Hannibal, who handed his heavier, longer jacket to Will.

“Some clothes, toiletries.” Will said dismissively. As he went into the kitchen instead to open the fridge. He grimaced slightly at the sight of the vegetable drawer. Not even bothering to check the state of it’s contents, he pulled it from the fridge and headed to the front door and past Hannibal who stood watching. He quickly dumped the vegetables into the snow before going back to the kitchen to rinse the drawer.

“Would you like me to assist?” Hannibal asked as he walked into the kitchen. Will gave him a quick glance, running a hand through his thick curls before shrugged. “Sure, if you want. I’m not sure how much experience you have with curdled milk though.”

“I am sure I will be fine.” Hannibal said with a reassuring smile before sliding around Will to the open fridge. He rummaged through it for a few seconds before leaning back to look at Will. “Do you by any chance have a plastic bag?”

“Like a grocery one? From Walmart?” Will said with a frown as he dried out the inside of the drawer with a dishtowel. Hannibal nodded and mumbled a quick “that will do.”

Will sighed, setting down the drawer, and stepped back from the sink so as the open the cabinet under it and pull out a small bin filled with the balled up bags. Taking one of the thicker lined ones, he passed it over to Hannibal, and before he could help it, a roll of paper towels. Hannibal frowned at this and Will shrugged, nudging the cabinet closed once more.

The process of cleaning Will’s fridge out was a grueling one, but the two of them figured it out. With nobody to remind Will to get groceries, he’s fridge had defaulted back to milk and cold cuts, but being rarely home, it didn’t help the cause.

Hannibal had just trudged back into the kitchen after empty a month old jar of pickles that now resembled mush into the snow, and Will was crouched in front of the open fridge, wiping it down with a warm cloth. He paused, closing his eyes and leaning it against one of the wall’s edges as Hannibal rinsed the jar out in the sink.

“Do you think I should just move in with you after all this?” Will asked suddenly, looking up at Hannibal through his stray curls. The man turned in the midst of drying the jar with a towel and blinked down at Will, who continued, “I mean, the dogs like you, _and_ I already practically live with you now, and there’s no denying the security of our relationship…”

“If that is what you want Will, then you are very welcome to.” Hannibal said softly, head cocked and lips curved into a small smile.

“I think I will.” Will said, a slight grin on his face as he grinned up at Hannibal. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh and shake his head. “It’s hard to believe, honestly.”

“How so?” Hannibal said, bemused. He crouched down in front of Will, watching him with a grin.

“Because, a few months ago I met you because I was ready to yell at you over a parking spot- a complete _stranger_ who didn’t know better- and then I was instantly sexually intimidated by you, and you asked me to coffee. _Coffee._ And now look at us, I’m moving into your house.”

Will couldn’t help but laugh, ducking his head as he did, and he heard Hannibal’s low rumbled of a laugh as well before one of his warm palms landed on Will’s scarred cheek, tilting his head to look at him again.

“Sexually intimidated you, did I?” Hannibal murmured teasingly and Will snorted, leaning his head into Hannibal’s hand.

“That’s all you got out of that little speech?” Will asked jokingly, seconds before Hannibal pulled Will forward into a kiss, forcing him to shift his body closer so as to grab onto the other man and hold him fast.

It quickly became deep, Hannibal sliding his tongue over Will’s, making him groan and grab onto his shirt lapels even tighter. Their lips glided over one another, dampened by their heated mouths and overlapping perfectly. Will pressed forward, harsher and harder, causing Hannibal to fall back from his crouch and onto his ass, Will instantly clambering on top of him to nip roughly at his bottom lip.

Hannibal responded by running a hand into the curls on the back of Will’s head and squeezing his fingers into a fist, tugging roughly and delighting in Will’s muffled moan. Their noses bumping awkwardly as Will tilted his head, Hannibal caught the other man’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.

Will could almost laugh at the situation- the two of them on his kitchen floor, rocking their erections together through layers of clothing as their teeth clashed and lips tangled in a soggy mess. This seemed to happen a lot, casual kissing turning into a desperate, blind search for the closest horizontal surface. And without the dogs here, Will had the home to himself.

Leaning back from Hannibal’s mouth so as to gasp for breath, Will pressed one hand to Hannibal’s neck and balanced his forehead to his as they rocked, a subconscious process that would soon become an intense and proper passion. Hannibal trust his hips up sudden in a way that made Will hiss and clung to him.

“H- _Hannibal_ ,” He gasped into the man’s ear as his fingers dug into the fine wool covering Hannibal’s back. “I think we should go upstairs.”

Hannibal growled, a faint yet impatient noise that made Will snort. “We haven’t broken in my bed yet.” He reasoned, nipping at the skin behind Hannibal’s ear as they continued their aimless grinding. Will felt one of Hannibal’s legs shift, then the other, and he had a split second to realize the man was bracing to stand and she should probably do the same.

Hannibal pushed himself up, elegant and swift as ever, and Will did the same, their close proximity sending him toppling against the other man as he did, nearly slamming them both against the island as they did. Will laughed, awkward and blushing before winding a hand into Hannibal’s hand and pulled him down for another melting kiss.

With Will’s back pressed against the counter edge, Hannibal took the chance to shove his knee between Will’s thighs, giving him a surface to rut himself against, slow and steady. There was a sudden animalistic urge to their kiss, less of a passionate liplock and more of a battle, dominant and angry, like two snarling animals.

Will was vaguely away of the hand on his ass as he dug the tips of his fingers painfully into the back of Hannibal’s neck as his tongue invaded his mouth. They broke apart for air, a brief second of damp gasps before they latched onto each other once more, Will rutting against Hannibal’s thigh while he pressed his free hand against Hannibal’s erection through his pants and squeezed.

“What were you saying,” Hannibal rasped against Will’s lips, “About a bed?”

“Upstairs.” Will murmured, and as soon as he said it, Hannibal’s hand curved until Will’s buttocks while the other latched onto the underside of Will’s knees, hauling him upwards. Will quickly wrapped his arms around Hannibal and locked his ankles behind him, feeling the deft fingers digging into the underside of his knee as Hannibal balanced himself and moved through the kitchen towards the short staircase to Will’s bedroom.

Pushing the door open with his foot, Hannibal walked the short distance to the bed and toppled unceremoniously onto it, leaving Will under him so he was atop them now. Will could feel his heartbeat hammering, his blood rushing through his veins at what be record speed. Reaching up, he knotted his fingers tightly into Hannibal’s hair and jerked him down into a kiss so suddenly their teeth clacked together awkwardly but went ignored.

Will’s fingers snapped to the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt, unbuttoning and tugging at them determinedly until the shirt was free and pushed it up of his shoulders so he could feel the full extent of the hard muscles hidden underneath. Hannibal seemed to have the same idea, making short work of Will’s soft button down and pushing it open so he could move his mouth to that instead.

His lips could around one of Will’s exposed nipples, tongue lapping over it and hardening it instantly, making Will lean back his head and release a small, pitiful noise. Hannibal tugged gently on the puckered skin before moving down Will’s abdomen, licking and teasing the exposed flesh, running his tongue over the thin cuts he found there, worshiping the damaged skin and replacing the painful memories of them with sensual ones.

When he reached the waist of Will’s jeans, he quickly shrugged out of his own unbuttoned shirt before he yanked the zipper down on Will’s denims and undid the brassy button, dragging them down his muscled legs and placing them aside before pulling his underwear down just as swiftly, releasing his hardened length to his maroon gaze.

Instead of aiding Will’s throbbing cock, he placed his hands sternly over Will’s hips to hold them down so when he descended upon the skin of Will’s inner thighs, he couldn’t move or thrust, just lay and accept the torture he was being given. Nipping at the skin with sharp teeth, Hannibal left a small suck mark near the base of his thigh before dragged his lips down to the inner, more sensitive skin.

Will fidgeted as Hannibal peppered him with soft kisses and suck marks, progressively working himself up to Will’s cock until the man was holding his breath. Hannibal laid a gentle kiss to the base of Will’s sensitive erection before adding a sharp nip to it, making him jump slightly.

Running his lips up over Will’s cock, Hannibal inhaled the dusky, masculine scent that came along with it, the smell of the precum beading at the tip mingling in as Will hissed slightly above him. Pressing a gentle kiss to the base, Hannibal sucked at it slightly, making Will grit his teeth and arch slightly, trying to get Hannibal to take him deeper, to feel the heat and dampness that ensured with it.

After teasing Will for what felt like forever with small kisses and damp licks, Hannibal finally wrapped his lips around the head and slowly swallowed Will down into his mouth, causing the man to hiss in pleasure and reach down with searching fingers to tangle into Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal hollowed his cheeks, pulling back till just the head of Will’s cock was left in his mouth, running his tongue over the slit before quickly sucking Will back down into his mouth once more, causing the man to cry out. Grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth lightly, Hannibal ran his tongue along the underside of Will’s pulsing member as his fingers massaged the man’s thighs while still holding him down. Above him, Will moaned his name on a shaky breath.

“H-Hannibal,” Will groans out as the man repeats his previous action, “Hannibal _please.”_

Hannibal gave a low, rumbling chuckle as he dragged himself off Will’s cock with the slightly suction sound and let himself be dragged up by Will to be locked into a hot, animalistic kiss. Will could taste his own flesh on Hannibal’s tongue as he delved into his mouth with burning determination.

Hiking one leg up, he braced his foot against the mattress and with on great heave and squeaking of bedsprings, Will rolled them over, putting himself on top in a position where he could access the front of Hannibal’s bespoke slacks. Pulling open the buttons, he made quick work of the zipper and raised himself up on his knees and off Hannibal’s lap so he could pull them, and his boxers down as quickly as possible.

Turning his back to as to push them down the rest of the way, he blushed under Hannibal’s simple, watchful gaze. Once Will had straightened and they were both unclothed, Hannibal sat up into Will’s space, digging his fingers into the man’s back as he reeled him in for another kiss.

With both their erections trapped between them, friction was easier to find as they pressed right up against one another, devouring each other. Will felt _invincible_ , while he’d always associated sex to a form of vulnerability, something that came with the nudity and letting somebody in, letting them _see,_ with Hannibal it was a mutual power balance, shared hunger turned into an equation of a sort.

“Lube. Now.” Will rasped sharply as their rocking became more persistent, breathing harsher.

“A clue on where it could be?” Hannibal rasped into Will’s throat where he’d been leaving a deep purple suck mark in plain sight. He still maintained that light, conversational voice that made Will snort. Even while he was about to be fucked in half by this man, Hannibal could always somehow make him laugh.

“Let me,” He purred, gingerly sliding off of Hannibal’s lap to brush by him in a crawl across the bed towards the bedside cabinet, although he may not be the most seductive of persons, he still knew how to move his hips, rock them slightly to the side as he reached across the bed to slide open the drawer and reach for the little bottle of lube.

He nearly jumped when he felt a sharp bite on one of his buttocks and instantly looked over his shoulder to see Hannibal attempting to look innocent but failing to hide his devious smirk as he watched Will’s backside with a very pleased expression. Will ducked his head, grinning and shaking his head.

He sat back finally after managing to wrangle a condom free from the box. Hannibal was instantly behind him, chest pressed to his back, a lightly calloused palm curling around will’s throat to gently guide his head back, exposing his throat for Hannibal’s tongue to lap at.

“Bite me.” It comes out a murmured, low and deep, but it makes Hannibal pause. Will could fee his heart jump a beat at the sudden implement, but thought nothing of it, just tilting his head back more and looking up at Hannibal through half-mast eyes.

“Are you sure, Will?” Hannibal murmured, his voice like sticky molasses, coating Will’s heart heavily. He nodded lazily and Hannibal waited a second more, a doubt period for backing out, before ducking his head towards Will’s neck.

Will expected him to do it quickly at first, but then again, that was never really Hannibal Lecter’s style. He ran his tongue over the area first, the area at the base of his next where his shoulder met. The gentle taps and sucks seemed almost too much, the anticipation tense and thick as Hannibal grazed his teeth gently over the skin there, and Will reached and arm up to hook around Hannibal’s neck to prompt him to move down. Finally, he ducked his head and sank his teeth into Will’s flesh.

It was softer at first, a tester to pain tolerance, but even then it made Will moan and arch into the sturdy body behind him. This time, it was harder, deeper, tugging at skin and pricking the tissue under it. Will gasped, eyes widened as his cock gave a frantic pulse.

Hannibal pulled away, instead pressing butterfly kisses and small licks to the stinging bite. Unwinding from the man, Will turned, grabbing Hannibal but the shoulders he yanked the man down on top of him hard enough it nearly knocked the breath out of them both.

Will kissed him breathless, fingers digging into the man’s shoulder blades as he did. Hannibal moved his hips in slow, low thrusts, rubbing his own swollen cock against Will, making them moan simultaneously.

Hannibal reach a hand out, blindly searching the area of the bed around them until his hand came in contact with the lube and condom. Snapping open the lube’s cap, he used his elbow to hold himself up so he could coat his fingers with the slippery goo.

Will opened his knees wide, spreading himself so Hannibal could trail his hand down between the man’s legs, giving his cock a few quick, slick pumps before moving down towards his entrance, massaging the tight ring of muscle he found there. He groaned when Hannibal slid the first finger in, his breath catching slightly.

Letting him stew purposely, Hannibal gently rubbed his finger along the inner walls of flesh, feeling Will shift and tilt under him in building expectation. Hannibal preoccupied himself by running his tongue over one of the longer scars that Will had received in a childhood beating, the end of it crawling up his ribcage from his side. The thought of such abuse made a suddenly flare of anger spark up. His bit the skin his found near the edge of the scar tissue, not exactly gentle nor entirely painful either, but enough to make Will jump slightly in surprise and dig his fingers into the man’s hair.

Sliding the next finger in Hannibal watched as  Will groaned and arched his back slightly, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness and slight stretch of pain as he rocked down onto Hannibal’s hand, feeling the fingers splay and curl inside him. “More.” Will groaned on a stuttered breath, one hand digging sharp fingers into Hannibal’s shoulder as if to implicate. Hannibal arched a brow and didn’t speak.

The third finger goes in quick, and Will groans loud, bucking his hips up against Hannibal’s, causing him to hiss at the sensation of warm flesh on his heated erection. He was throbbing, nearly bursting with impatience as he watched Will pant and shudder with adoring eyes.

Will panted, head tilted back and throat exposed, the stretch of skin causing his previous bite to sting slightly, the sensation melting into the pleasure. Reaching down between his and Hannibal’s body, he took the other man’s cock in hand, stroking it calmly, focusing his glazed eyes onto Hannibal’s concentrated but loving expression. He couldn’t help but bite his lip and smile bashfully at the other man, causing Hannibal to smile in return.

They were both fools for one another, and not even they would deny it in that moment, with tender love in their eyes and tension between their warm bodies, it was if fire was burning in their bones. Will reached single handedly for the lube, set aside on the bleak grey comforter, and snapped the little lid open, managing to snag it between two fingers and squeeze some of the scentless goo onto his hand.

The bottle was left aside as Will brought his now damp hand to Hannibal’s cock the velvety skin under it was pulled taut and heated, and he used his other, now free, hand to rake his fingers through Hannibal’s soft hair trestles which had begun to fall out of place, he admired the way their shone with shades of blonde and chestnut, with just the right amount of silver flitted through it.

When Hannibal’s substantial length was slicked and Will all but begging to be filled by him, Hannibal withdrew his fingers from Will, the man moaning slightly for the loss of the sensation. Instead, Hannibal hooked Will under the knees and set them against his waist from where he sat on his knees. Will watched Hannibal’s every move with glazed eyes and breathy noises that were driving Hannibal to the point of ravenous.

As he lined himself up with Will’s hole, he had to remind himself not to hurt the boy before sliding part of the way in, giving him time to adjust as they both groaned in unison. Will was an unbelievable feeling, something Hannibal had never found in any previous sexual partner. The man beneath him was determined to give but also to take, not a glass figure nor a rock, he was stern and desirable, a man who arched, bended and moaned as much as Hannibal did. And he liked to believe Will saw the same in him to have let him so close to himself.

Will felt the burn, the ache, but impatience was growing within him, causing him to reach up and dig his fingers into Hannibal’s shoulder blades and lift his hips, and open invitation to be filled. Hannibal took it, sliding himself in to the hilt, feeling the twitches of muscle adjusting around him as Will inhaled sharply below him.

Trying to ease the sting of pain Will must’ve been feeling, Hannibal ducked down to kiss him softly, and it was returned just the same, Will running calloused fingers along Hannibal’s sharp cheekbone and feeling the hollow of his cheek and the slightly growth of stubble that laid upon it.

As his body began to adjust, Will squirmed, pushing down slightly onto Hannibal’s cock, feeling the warm sensation he truly adored as he did. Will broke their kiss to look up into Hannibal’s eyes and murmured the single word, “move.”

And Hannibal did, hands propped on either side of Will’s head as slowly drew himself out, feeling Will cross his ankles against the small of Hannibal’s back, and pushed back in. Will’s breath hitched and he bit his lip. Hannibal started slowly, making sure to find a rhythm, watching the flits and shudders of Will’s body, the way he shut his eyes on every thrust but opened then again to watch Hannibal.

Pressure built inside Hannibal, like a shaken champagne bottle that was desperate to pop, his eyes ran over Will’s succulent body, the coiled muscles beneath, the way he ran his hands over Hannibal’s chest as they rock in unison.

Hannibal ducks his head down to Will’s throat, finding a spot to suck upon as he once again thrusted into Will, this time the make arch and cried out in surprise, telling Hannibal’s found his mark. Will’s body felt alive, overpowered by sensation as he dug his nails into Hannibal’s shoulders moments before Hannibal bit him once more, this time on the shoulder and with enough pressure to grab Will’s attention and making him groan out Hannibal’s name.

Something in Hannibal snaps, something feral and desperate and hungry, and when he thrusts into Will again, it is strong and hard, making the other man cry out in pleasure as Hannibal hit his prostate once more, nails dragging over the man’s shoulders and leaving torn, redden skin in their wake.

Will choked, feeling like he might faint from the pleasure he was feeling as Hannibal fucked into him, rough and hard, making his throat tighten and lights dance before his eyes from over stimulation. The man was nothing if not determined when it came to Will’s pleasure, but this was different, it was animalistic.

Will reached between their moving bodies for his sensitive cock that dripped with precum, but found himself blocked by Hannibal, who took both of Will’s wrists and used them to pin his hands above him on the bed, taking him by surprise as he heard Hannibal’s growl, making him shudder.

Hannibal held Will down, fucking into him roughly and watching as the man panted, twitched, and moaned, his cock weeping and untouched as Hannibal took no mercy. When Hannibal kissed him again, it was ferocious, a tangle of their tongues as they both tried to take control to no avail. Will was quickly becoming as animalistic as Hannibal, fighting roughly against the man’s hold on his wrists, feeling the elegant fingers bite into his skin in a warning he ignored.

We wanted to touch, to savor, feel Hannibal’s hot skin under his hands as stars shone behind their eyes from pleasure, Will all but panting at the wave after wave of it hitting him, making his heart pound and his throat tighten. Finally he broke away from Hannibal’s pining hand with a fierce snarling noise and instantly dug his nails into the man’s back, lifting his hips to meet the man’s thrusts and holding on as Hannibal quickened them, bringing Will closer and closer to the edge.

Hannibal bit him, Will scratched him, both releasing feral and carnal noises as they did and Will could feel the tugging sting of Hannibal’s hands balled in his curls. The dam had broken, a toxin of sorts had seemed to seep into both of their veins as they fucked, rough and hard, the building pleasure burning like the over bright sun, Will’s cock trapped between the two of them leaked, spreading stickiness between them that went ignored.

Finally, with one extremely well-placed rough thrust against Will’s prostate, he convulsed, crying out Hannibal’s name as he came between them, back arched and eyes wide. Something clicked in the back of his mind as his eyes locked with Hannibal’s. Something he pushed away instantly due to the uncontrollable pleasure that overwhelmed his body, Hannibal continuing to thrust into him, riding him through the pleasure until he, too, came with a growl, slumping down against Will.

They were a sweaty, sticky pile of limbs, both of them panting as if they’d ran a marathon, legs tangled and arms still tightly wound together. Will exhaled deeply, and Hannibal pressed a gentle kiss to Will’s scarred cheek. “That was…”

“Enjoyable.” Hannibal filled in, his voice oddly muffled and raspy against Will’s shoulder. He slowly shifted himself so he could look at Will.

“I was going to say unexpected.” Will murmured, a fond smile on his features. All the while, something was stirring in his brain, something he pushed back with a gulp and tried his best to ignore.

“We forgot the condom.” Hannibal replied, words distracting Will as the other man propped up on one elbow and pressing one hand over Will’s chest above his heart, fingers splayed. Will snorted slightly, eyes crinkled as he watched Hannibal’s hand where it lay, almost fascinated.

“I’ll shower later.” He murmured, reaching up to place a hand where Hannibal’s shoulder met his neck. "How's your back?" He asked somewhat guiltily, unable to believe he had clawed the man like that. He'd undeniable torn skin up and very likely left welts that was irritate the man for days, yet Hannibal still smiled. "It is fine, and your neck?"

"It looks like i've been chewed on but i'll live." He says with a laugh, rubbing Hannibal's arm subconsciously, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Will moved his gaze up slowly, almost hesitantly as his smile slid away and his gaze met Hannibal’s, who's was filled with overwhelming love and devotion, and Will’s heart skipped a beat, words flying from his lips before he could stop them or even think.“I love you.”

Hannibal blinked, smile fading slightly as he cocked his head, examining Will’s features as if looking for a lie or a tell, almost as if he expected it to be a spur of the moment announcement. Disliking this strange suspicion, Will placed a palm against Hannibal’s cheek, smiling widely and genuinely as he repeated his previous words on a surprised laugh. “I love you.”

Hannibal, with a widening smile, Hannibal leaned into Will’s palm, turning so he could press a kiss to its center before leaning down to press gentle kisses from Will's lips up his  jaw until he reached his ear and nipped the lobe before murmuring, “And I love you, my darling boy.”

They settled, comfortable and lazy, Will yanking what seemed like a substantial amount of sheets up from the end of the bed to toss over them, ignoring the way they lay horizontally and left their legs hanging off the edge. Right now Will couldn't care about many things. 

And as they lay together, warm and drowsy, the sheets a ruffled mess around them, Will’s mind went back, back to his thoughts, back to the thing he’d been denying since he’d realized it not even ten minutes ago. Some part of him always seemed to know, to _suspect_ , but it was hard to believe that the man who’d just laid gentle kisses upon him seconds ago, who’d held his hand in public as they walked through the streets or taken him out to terrifyingly expensive restaurants just to see him squirm, put up with his late night breakdowns and his sudden mood swings, who enjoyed his company and mind as much as his body and personality, the man who made him smile and laugh and genuinely happy for the first time in many, many years…

That this _man_ , was the Chesapeake Ripper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh shit, Will knows, but how's he gonna take it? I know bc i'm horrible, and if you'll avert your eyes to the "not a happy ending" tag i've had in tags since forever, you'll probably learn to hate me even more.
> 
> Rest in peace to anybody watching tomorrow, whether if it's for the first time or the second (i'm watching it again) may the odds be ever in our terrifying favors.
> 
> SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES, PER USUAL.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal "discuss"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS
> 
> so this is ubeta'd short crap i rewrote about nine times before i got anything i was semi-pleased in and i hate it either way so if you hate it we can agree over that.

Will did was any rational person would do after the realization their beloved one was a mass murderer; He made coffee.

He took his with two sugars, no cream, and stood staring bleakly out the back door at the snowy landscape, the sound of crickets and shifting snow the only noises to be heard. Hannibal would arise soon, he knew it, and yet he couldn’t find anything in himself to call Jack or make a run for it.

They would talk. They always talked. Knowing Hannibal, Will won’t even have to speak for him to realize what had happened. How Hannibal reacted- how _he_ reacted- all depended on them. As the biting cold air seeped into Will’s skin from under the door, he couldn’t help but mull over the thought that either way, this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Will had woken up around five, to see Hannibal’s back, covered in red scratches, facing him in the bed. He’d stared, enthralled almost by the fact he’d done that, before previous memories swirled back to life. Darker memories of realization and shock that had sent him to his feet and into the hall to the bathroom.

He’d barely closed the door and lifted the toilet seat before bile, hot and bitter swirled up from his throat, making him cough and retch into the bowl. Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. There was no denying it, no ignoring it.

Will’s illness had been less about the man’s crimes and more about the missing organs, how he himself had announced the man was a cannibal, how Will had sat for dinner at Hannibal’s table countless times and complimented him on his abilities.

How Will had fully participated in the eating of fellow humans while Hannibal smile and watched.

He’d vomited again, stomach heaving and constricting until there was nothing left to empty, leaving his throat burning like fire. There’d been so many times, so many occasions where the truth had danced in front of Will’s face, and yet he’d been oblivious. In fact Hannibal himself had hinted relentlessly, casual suggestion and puns so obvious that they seemed joking and unrealistic.

Will felt like a fool, not only for missing so many signs, but for succumbing to his own beliefs. Some damn profiler he was when he couldn’t see one of the most notorious killers of the age standing right in front of him.

But then again, it was so easy to ignore any signs, after all, Hannibal treated him like no other personal had, his love and compassion genuine, and Will couldn’t believe that the Ripper profiler so blatantly claimed the killer couldn’t love when Will had seen that very emotion in Hannibal’s eyes whenever he looked at Will.

He’d sat beside the toilet, clueless and oddly emotionless about this entire situation- what could he possibly do? Call Jack Crawford? No, that’d never work, he’d ask too many questions and it’d become entirely obvious to Hannibal what was happening. By the time Jack would arrive Will would probably already be dead and missing half his organs.

And yet… he couldn’t see Hannibal Lecter ever hurting him, at least unprovoked. The Chesapeake Ripper killed for food, he thought of people like worthless pigs to slaughter and his eating of them was very likely going to be their highest honor. But when Hannibal looked at Will, there was nothing but devotion and respect.

No, Hannibal wouldn’t kill Will unless provoked, and calling Jack Crawford and fleeing behind an army would be cowardice, a pig worthy act in the psychopaths’ eyes. Eating Will would be only for the reason of preservation, understanding. He’d never waste a bit, every last bit used to its fullest extent so as to worship the memory.

Will had been left with very few options, and the idea of attacking or killing the other man had made him cringe. It would be a very stupid, offending move of which would get him killed. Hannibal was stronger, bigger then Will and the hard muscle he’d felt so many times under plush skin would be used to rip the smaller man apart.

When Will had locked eyes with Hannibal the night before, he’d seen nothing but feral, dark hunger, something uncontrolled and tormented that had made him realize exactly what he was up against. While the Chesapeake Ripper was a monster, Hannibal was a man, and men were destroyed by their flaws and weaknesses everyday.

It would not take Hannibal long to realize the change in Will, the man practically saw straight into his head. So, Will cleaned himself up and crept into the bedroom to snap his jeans and a sweater. Luckily for him, he knew which were the noises floorboards so as to avoid waking the other man, then he’d gone downstairs.

As Will stood now, lazily dressed and nursing his coffee, there was a fleeting creak, followed by another, and Will tensed. Footsteps followed, and Will listened to the sound of the Chesapeake Ripper getting dressed in his bedroom. Having already dressed rather sloppily himself, Will had nothing else to do but wait.

Hannibal didn’t call out through the house for Will, simply came down the stairs and glanced around, Will’s flannel clad shoulders hard to miss. Will turned slightly, giving Hannibal a small, rather impersonal smile before glancing away, his stance was far from relaxed, his knuckles white around the handle of his mug.

“Good morning Will.” Hannibal said, standing not far behind Will, who turned properly this time, giving him a more confident smile, his head ducked slightly as he did.

“Good morning Hannibal. I trust you slept well?” Will asked, not moving to shrink the space between them.

“As good as most,” Hannibal said, a smile of his own on his face as he cocked his head. “I tend to sleep better when beside you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Will said, looking up at Hannibal, expression softening. Tucking one hand into his pocket, Will held Hannibal’s gaze for what must’ve been a minute before he cleared he throat awkwardly and asked, “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“That’s probably in your best interest.” Will said with a sigh, glancing at his own mug, still half filled with coffee. “’m not quite sure how old these grinds are.”

“Do you have everything you’ll need?” Hannibal asked curiously as Will brushed by him into the kitchen. Instead of standing awkwardly, he leaned against the back of the couch and took in his surroundings as Will called back over the running of the kitchen tap.

“Yeah, it’ll be just a minute.” The water stopped and there was some uninteresting rustling, but what finally drew his attention was the sudden click.

Hannibal took his time, slow and deliberate, to look over at Will, who had a pistol aimed very neatly at Hannibal’s chest. Will’s face was a mask of hidden emotions, but his eyes betrayed him, pained and solemn at what they must’ve discovered to cause this reaction.

Hannibal’s sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he turned his attention back to the room at large, acting uninterested. “How long?”

“Since last night.” Will said blankly, voice forcibly strong, as if it took all his energy not to let it waver. “Although I’ve been praying I was wrong.”

“And you thought that a weapon between the matters would draw the truth from me?” Hannibal murmured, gaze focused on a lovely sketching of a boat. “That I would be confused of panicked at the thought and you and I could continue on a happy couple?”

“It was worth a shot.” Will said, his tired voice riddled with defeat.

“Guns lack intimacy.” Hannibal murmured disinterestedly.

“So does murder.” Will shot back.

Hannibal’s head turned quickly, pinning his gaze onto Will’s and holding it. “Does it?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Will said, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he swallowed. Hannibal watched him for a second before slowly replying, “And I would.”

“Yes.” Will said sternly. “You would.”

“Are you planning to call Jack?” Hannibal said, changing the topic suddenly, Will frowned, his mouth working faster than his mind. ‘How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Because he would’ve arrived by now.” Hannibal said lamely and Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“So,” Will said, “The Chesapeake Ripper. You are a unbelievable match to the profile, yet nobody saw it, and I want to know-”

“Why? How?” Hannibal cocked his head, watching Will curiously from where he leaned against the couch back. “I believe it is because of my profession. A psychiatrist’s duty to is to save the mind and body from itself, to help others. The _Ripper,_ ” his lip curls as he said the word. “Destroys life, give it a new, more beautiful meaning.”

“So that’s how you see it?” Will asked, anger mingling into his already emotional voice. “You’re turning the pigs of life into art? What’s their tell, then, what makes you choose them?”

“As pleasant as this conversation is, Will, I would be much more comfortable if you could lower you weapon for the time being.” Hannibal asked calmly.

Raising both his brows, Will lowered his weapon so it was level with the other man’s groin, earning an arched brow and defeated sigh from Hannibal. Will lifted the gun to shoulder level once more as Hannibal answered Will’s previous question. “Rudeness.”

Will raised his eyebrows before giving a humorless, short laugh. “Rudeness? _Seriously?_ So what, you just decide if someone is going to live or die because of something they did or say? You act as their judge and jury before leading them to their deaths?”

Hannibal pressed his lips together, obviously unimpressed by Will’s sarcastic yet upset words. The man shook his head, gun still aimed at Hannibal, unwavering as he responded, “Although, that’s what makes it so much _better_ for you, more enjoyable. They slip up and in that instance you know they’re dinner, but they have no idea, they live their lives normally and unsuspecting before you sneak up and clip them out, and in those seconds they’re dying and realizing exactly who you are and scramble for a reason why you’d do this, chances are they won’t even remember.”

“A very interesting point of view, Will,” Hannibal murmured, seeming genuinely intrigued by it. “Although it could be better worded.”

“Don’t taunt the crazy with a gun.” Will snapped with a scowl before realizing exactly how that sounded.

“You think you are crazy Will?” Hannibal asked in that tone he kept for his patients, making Will’s skin crawl and his lip twitch, opting to growl out his reply  .“How couldn’t I be if I’m in love with _you.”_ The remark hit home. Hannibal’s eyes narrowing as he straightened, making Will take a hesitant step back, swallowing hard but keeping his hands and weapon steady.

“You believe _me_ crazy then.” Hannibal said slowly and Will had to repress the urge scoff, but Hannibal’s tone dropped as he continued. “And because of that belief you must be as crazy as I.”

“You’re the Chesepeake Ripper. You’re beyond crazy, you’re _psychotic.”_ Will snapped, take another small step back. “What he does- what _you_ do, Hannibal, isn’t sane.”

“And yet I am perfectly sane.” Hannibal remarked casually. “If I had not been, it would’ve been much easier to catch me by now, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s debatable.” Will said begrudgingly. “Many psychopaths are hard to catch. Marcel Petiot or Jeffery Dahmer for example.”

Hannibal inclined his head in agreement, but his gaze quickly clicked back onto Will’s. Maroon eyes now seemed to resemble dried blood. How many people had looked into those eyes as they died? Had seen the hidden monster underneath as he cut them open like an experiment and cut their organs free to feast upon in later times.

Will’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his empathy suddenly surging, tangling into a mass of terror and pain that those must’ve felt and suddenly Will was the victim, the faceless fool who faced their end at the hands of a savage, demonic human.

Hannibal did not miss this sudden change, the way Will’s eyes glazed over and his hands began to tremor. He knew this was his time, he could disarm him, grab him tightly and suffocate him, snap his neck and feel the life leave his lover’s body, but he watched instead, as Will’s mouth parted and released a shaky breath.

“All those times I called you,” Will murmured vaguely horrified. “Because I had brought the victim home with me. That time you told me the Ripper would right out of my grasp or that he was probably someone I knew. You were _taunting_ me.”

“testing you-“ Hannibal barely finished before Will hissed between his gritted teeth, “ _Taunting_ me.”

Hannibal made a frustrated noise, shooting Will a look. “William you’re being extremely uncooperative.”

“Do _not_ call me William.” Will snarled, tempted to throw aside the gun between them and punch Hannibal in the nose. He’d always hated being called by his full name, and right now what not the time for it. “And being uncooperative is expected when you boyfriend turns out to be a _cannibal._ ”

“This has gone on long enough.” Hannibal said, his calm tone starting to warp, irritation and impatience winding their way in. “give me the gun.”

“Seriously?” Will asked with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m just going to hand it over? And leave myself defenseless?”

“You truly believe that a gun could protect you from me?” The question was unexpected, Will had figured something meant to sooth him, something calming and rational, but the emotionless words made him set his jaw and swallow.

“It's the best i have." Will said lamely. he didn't have many skills with knives and the ones in his kitchen would be to far, not to mention if Hannibal was to get one of his hands on those... He shuddered at the thought of what the man could do whilst armed with a blade.

“And tell me how you think it would go, then.” Hannibal cocked his head, eyes narrowed slightly and that small smile Will knew all too well back in place. Will had new they would talk, maybe even fight, but this was a confusing mish-mash of emotions and probing questions that he doubted either of them expected.

“I’d shoot once, maybe twice or three times,” Will starts automatically, almost robotically. “I might manage to graze you, but you’re stronger and bigger, you’d have me disarmed and harmless within seconds.”

“So how would you kill me, Will?” Hannibal murmured in continuation, hands behind his back as he watched Will with interest. Will’s eyes hardened, cold determination taking over as he confidently answered. “With my hands.”

Hannibal hummed in interest at this little addition, and Will hesitated, arms sore from holding up his weapon for so long yet unrelenting. “Why me?” Will’s asks suddenly, voice small and hushed, but yet it felt yelled in the quiet of the cabin. Hannibal watched Will for a moment, watching his wide eyes and desperate need to know. But Will already knew, deep down he could say the exact reason why it was him the Chesapeake Ripper had given his heart to.

“Because you understand.” Hannibal said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Will breaks under the pressure, his heart constricting. He _did_ understand. And that cut him down to the deepest part of him. Will’s hands lowered, his head ducked as his shoulder trembled. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as Hannibal, and a sudden need to put miles between them overwhelmed him until it was the only thing he knew.

“Get out.” He said, voice choked as he didn’t bother to look up and see if Hannibal followed those orders.

When Will looked up, Hannibal was gone, and Will had never felt more alone in his life.

 

* * *

 

Will called in sick for the week. It wasn’t hard to fake being congested when his voice was so choked anyways. He was a mess, constantly between emotionless and hysterical as his emotions went haywire. He was down to his last whiskey bottle, the good one he’d always kept in the crystal jug.

Jack tried to call, as did Alana, but Hannibal remained unknown. Will wondered vaguely if the man was still in town or had fled.

In the time Will had spent alone, his thoughts had been at a sort of civil war between accepting who Hannibal was and tying the man into a straitjacket himself. Either way, Will had come to the solid conclusion that he couldn’t live without Hannibal Lecter.

It seemed dramatic and irrational and he’d thought of every possible outcome without the other man but none of them felt real, just false happiness and an empty chest. Will had never believed in having a “other half” but be damned if Lecter wasn’t the closest thing to it.

Will had undug an old pack of cigarettes and had taken to smoking them, completely oblivious to the fact of his empty fridge and stale cereal filled pantry. He’d been thinking of what to do for days.

Turning Lecter over to Jack was a one-way ticket to their graves. It wasn’t the first time the FBI had had their asses handed to them by the Ripper, but this time is the man himself was there to do it, it’d end up so much worse for them all.

Perhaps he could forgive and forget? Will wanted to snort at the childish concept. Forgiving and forgetting cannibalism and brutal murder would take a toll, but then wouldn’t it do so either way?

Will paced, cigarette held between his teeth while his hands ran through his hair. He was a fool, overthinking everything when there were clear choices. He could kill Hannibal –or at least _try-_ let Jack do it, or embrace the man’s nature.

The third option was tempting, the pent up longing and desire for the other man was beginning to burn like a fire in his gut, reminding him constantly of the luxuries Hannibal had provided- love, understanding, attention- all things Will pined for and Hannibal had delivered with open arms. He could forgive the man, but yet something about it made his stomach clench, the mere idea of giving in to this darkness making him queasy.

If Jack or anybody else intervened, their death was obvious, so it left Will one option. They’d hash it out, the best survives. Will laughed aloud at the idea, cigarette tumbling under the floor. He crushed it under his heel disinterestedly.

Will was at his weakest, emotionally and physically, and fighting the good Doctor would be foolish and predictable, yet something in him said it was right. His death would be undeniable, but it would for good cause wouldn’t it?

Will moved towards the stares, climbing up them while exhaustion made his limbs heavy, nearly seeing double from lack of sleep as he made his way into his bedroom which reeked of stale smoke and bitter liquor. He subconsciously grimaced at the mess he’d become and opened a window.

He honestly knew what he wanted to do but he didn’t at the same time. It was the indecisive feeling of hopelessness that made him pick up his cellphone and hesitate above the speedial option. He shook his head and set it aside.

Hannibal would come on his own terms, Will knew it. He didn’t need to call the man, because if he was anything like Will was, he would’ve spent the last few days as much of a confused and irritated wreck that Will had.

Will snorted aloud as he flipped back the bedcovers and clambered into his bed. He almost wished he could see Hannibal so out of his emotional element. At this point they’d be thinking the same, to continue on they must dispose of the other.

Really, they could just run off together if they so desired but neither of them had a history of thinking clearly, deciding to take the darker and somewhat harder road to save themselves. They’d both been alone for so long all they knew how to do was worry about themselves, to feel that selfish desire to self-protect even if it means cutting ties with everyone you know.

Will goes in and out of an uneasy sleep, short minutes and long hours pressing against him until he was shifty and uncomfortable, rolling aimlessly in search for rest. He missed his dogs, he missed buster pressed against the back of his knees and Winston curled beside the bed, how occasionally Stardust or Rufus would lay beside or on top of him, or how on bad nights like this he’d lay among them in a warm pile in front of the fireplace.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Hannibal continued to take care of his remaining mutts, or if he’d shunned them off to someone else. Something told Will that Hannibal had more respect than to do such and would likely take care of the animals.

Comforted by the thought of his pets, Will lays on his side, letting his eyes dip shut and his face relax, dipping once again into sleep. This time longer, more comforting, bringing him well through the night and into the next day. He left the bed for his regular day of pacing, torturing his liver and lungs with chemicals and alcohol. He couldn’t help but wonder bitterly what Hannibal would think to find such healthy organs reduced to waste.

Another day passes, and then another, but it’s nighttime when it finally happens. Will woke up. Simple as that, not a jump or a sudden intake of breath. His eyes flipped open and began their adjustment to the darkness.

A creak.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, having become used to the eerie silence and his own paranoia, Will had waited unknowingly for a moment that would make sense to his bleary mind. But now it was sharp, sober, and he finally clicked.

And as Will listened to the softest sounds of footsteps, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Will and Hannibal are pissy and don't know how to do emotions.
> 
> Congrats on reading the ubeta'd crap.
> 
> Basically, the next chapter is an epilogue and you're going to find out exactly what happened after this as well as information of future fics and whatnot.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it guys, it's the epilogue! I won't ramble or anything, so i'll save any thank-yous for the end!

It was nearly three am when Abigail Hobbs arrived in Wolftrap.

Her old orange truck rolled over the travel of Will’s driveway, the comforting pops and clicks of the stones underneath gave the feeling of nostalgia as the small white home came into sight, emerging from the darkness ominously. Unsurprisingly, the lights were out and the house was dark. She’d figured Will would’ve been staying with Hannibal anyways.

Guilt quenched Abigail’s gut as she parked, sliding out of the driver’s seat and letting the cold air wash over her, seeping straight down to her bones and making her shudder. She’d payed no mind to the soggy snow and the moonlight reflecting from it, nor the cooing of the wind and the rustles of nearby trees.

She approached the house, gravel and ice crunching underfoot as she went, arms hugged tight around herself. She’d stay the night here and surprise Will and Hannibal tomorrow, perhaps feed the dogs as a favor and do a bit of cleaning before she tucked in.

Much to Abigail’s surprise, there wasn’t any sign of the dogs as she opened the unsurprisingly unlocked door. She wondered exactly how much time Will had spent with Hannibal- Had they moved in together? Will wouldn’t take any of his things so it was a defined possibility. She could’ve very easily drove past the ‘For Sale’ sign in if there was one.

Her boots tapped on the floorboards but she opted not to take them off yet, the chill of the inside almost as bad outside. She’d have to start a fire and sleep in front of it if she didn’t want frostbite.

Abigail had shifted awkwardly into the home, the smell of stale smoke and liquor hitting her nose and making his cringe. Had the home already been sold? Will never was one for smoking and it was a possibility she’d just walked into a stranger’s new home. She was almost scared to go upstairs.

Instead, she wandered to the kitchen, tugging open the fridge door and examining the empty contents before shutting it with a frown and heading for the pantry. The contents was some stale cereal and a variety of crackers and soup cans that had been in their pantry since she'd moved in, and she was sure they were impossible to live off of, but still, she was skeptical.

Before she could help it, Abigail went back to the fridge and peeled open the freezer to show a bag of ice and a small container of Moose Tracks icecream that had been there when she left. She couldn’t help but smile before shutting it again.

Continuing her pacing so as to keep her body heat up, she peaked around the livingroom one last time- various newspapers and ashtrays held piles of ash and cigarette remnants and whiskey tumblers sat in corners like dustbunnies- before making her way to the creaky staircase.

She held the railing, gently guiding herself up and tried not to flinch at the noises made by her footfalls, but was quickly distracted by a small dark splatter on the top step, barely noticeable in the darkness. Spilled coffee perhaps? She rubbed at it with her fingertip and felt that it was dry but not old, powdery residue coming off onto her finger. Frowning, she straightened and took her last step up onto the platform.

Her own bedroom door was closed, but Will’s was open just enough that a ray of moonlight from his window shone through to the hallway, the white light nearly blinding. Abigail frowned deeper, unable to shake the feeling that something was off, that feeling strong enough for her to reach her hand up and gently rap against the door, nearly jumping when it creaked a little wider from the action.

“Will?” She called in nervously. “It’s Abigail, are you here?”

No response. Rubbing her hands together for warmth but also to try and release some of the nervous tension, she reach a palm up and pushed open the door.

Her gut dropped at what she saw, eyes and throat instantly burning as she covered his mouth in choked horror. Blood, mostly dried but some still glistening, was smeared haphazardly upon the floor, some even splattered up Will’s dresser and by the door.

But what made Abigail panic, truly, was the body that lied in the midst of the mess, skin greyed and head nearly spread-eagle, chocolate curls matted and front coated thickly in the red liquid that surrounded him.

Abigail didn’t think, scrambling forward and nearly slipping on a wet patch, collapsing beside the still body of Will Graham, her pale hands digging into his arms as she all but climbed upon him.

“Will? Will wake up!” It was choked, desperate, and Abigail could feel the coldness of his skin under his hands, foolishly ignoring that fact to try and beg life back into him. A long gash cut through his abdominal, deep enough to have sliced through organs beneath and even scraped bone.

Abigail sat, legs bent awkwardly as she laid his head on her lap. She was vividly reminded of Marissa, bloated and cold, her head laid upon Abigail’s lap much like this.

She should call somebody. Anybody really. But instead Abigail stayed put, staring down at Will’s gaunt face as she gently brushed his curls away from his face. She slowed, noticing the faintest curl of a smile on the man’s face, barely noticeable unless focused on.

Confused, Abigail gently ran the back of her fingers down the shrewd stubble of Will’s cheek. Will’s last action was to smile? Will had not been the friendliest of persons, and Abigail had listened to enough to connect the dots. This was personal killing, it could only be so, and otherwise Will Graham would not smile.

Abigail is not quite sure why she does it, reaching two hesitant fingers down to gently pull back Will’s eyelids. Perhaps it was the notion that smiles always seem too involved direct eyecontact, or just blatant curiosity, but when she saw that the glazed stormy eyes remained staring upwards under closed lids, she understood.

The killer had closed Will’s eyes. The killer had made Will smile and accept his death. Compassion was written all over this scene, the emotions and love that laid placidly like spilled glitter.

“I’m sorry Will.” She whispered, the slow burn of realization making her throat raw. Will, the poor bastard, must’ve realized the same thing she only understood now as a sob lodged itself in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

After closing his eyes gently once more, Abigail gently set Will back down properly and stood, looking at the room in a new light. She intended to pick it apart, look at it the way Will would have, to be worthy of his affections and pride. Closing her eyes, she swallowed, mentally preparing herself before opening them again.

Now she was an outsider, shutting out her thoughts and feelings, and Will Graham was a murdered victim laying upon the floor. Instead she turned his gaze to the surroundings. A gun lay not far from Will, his FBI standard pistol, she went to that, pulling her woolen gloves from her small shoulder bag before picking it up and sliding the cartridge out. Two shots were missing.

Placing the gun back down, she looked about the room. Two shots. Will had accepted his death but was willing to make it hard to accomplish, this was good. Abigail remembered the blood splattered dresser and turned her attention to that instead, it was far enough from Will’s mess that it could very well be his attackers.

Lowering herself to a crouch, she raised his hand up like she was holding a gun, adjusting till it was level enough to have caused the splatter. It would have to be a low shot angle up and it didn’t seem to have passed through the person, meaning it’d grazed them.

The femoral artery, if Abigail was right in her prediction, Will could’ve very easily shot towards that, knowing it would cause his attack to bleed out before killing him, but ye there wasn’t exactly as much blood to say it’d been a direct hit, so definitely grazed. Lowering her hand, Abigail turned her eyes to the floor and spot a pool of blood near the area, enough to suggest the attacker had bled before stifling it.

Abigail smile, looking at the stiff corpse over her shoulder. He’d defended himself and that was all that mattered, but now it was time to accept what had happened. The attack must’ve got onto top of him and got him disarmed, something that’d be hard to do seeing exactly how feisty Will could be, meaning there was very likely tissue from scratching or hitting that clung to Will’s fingers.

This had been a fair fight, which further motivated Abigail to who she already thought had done it. Hannibal Lecter had always treated Will fairly, like an equal, and the more she thought about it, the more he fight the snippets of the Ripper profile that she knew of.

Back when she’d first moved in with Will, when she still had agitations and defiance in her bones, she’d shuffled through his murder files, reading pages worth of gruesome details, the note in the margins or on extra lined paper, scribbled longhand with thought-out details.

Also the fact that Abigail’s first meal she’d tasted it, such a familiar taste that it had made her stiffen in her chair. It had not been lamb, the texture of meat she’d known so well from her father’s hand had nearly been baked out but was still palpable, like a taunt of sorts. She’d held the doctor’s eye contact, and she’d eaten it all knowing full well what it was.

So yes, Hannibal Lecter being the Chesepeake Ripper was a very obvious fact and the thought of his killing had never really crossed her mind until then. But if Hannibal had kept his equal standing with Will… the man was probably just as dead as the corpse beside her, especially if Will had gotten a good shot in.

Abigail couldn’t help but wonder vaguely how long Hannibal stayed before fleeing. He wouldn’t have made it very far, maybe enough to go somewhere private and hidden to die, like a cat dragging itself into a corner to die in peace.

Standing once more, Abigail felt the burn of her muscles in her thighs as she looked about. Blood as crusted into her palms and the legs of her jeans, but she didn’t care, there was nothing else here for her.

Walking softly from the room as if not to startle Will, she opened the door to her own bedroom, opening her dresser’s bottom drawer and pulling the duffle bag from it and beginning to pick across the room, taking anything she wanted or needed and cramming it in before doing the same with the bathroom.

She dipped back into Will’s room again, casually, as it he wasn’t there at all, to snag a portrait of the two of them off his bedside. When he left, she closed the door partially like how she found it.

In her old backpack she put everything that couldn’t fit in the duffle before picking around the livingroom as well. When she’d taken a few obscure items and was finished, she set the bags by the door and inhaled deeply.

The house felt of nothing now, nobody filling its humble space. She wasn’t coming back here, practically worshiping all she saw with her gaze. This had been her life, sunshine through open windows and the popping of fish on the stove, the dog hair on every surface and Will’s collection of books.

She’d taken his copy of _Death In Venice._ He would’ve liked that.

Abigail appraised the silence, the coolness of the house, and she could almost feel the voices echoing inside, Beverly laughing as she rummaged through the fridge, Will ranting about how TV characters were always ‘fucking idiots’, or the barks of dogs when they saw her handful of treats, even the voice of Hannibal Lecter had worked its way in, calming and soothing, echoing through the brittle cracks and squeaky joints to forever ingrain itself among the house’s quiet history.

Abigail felt strangely empty as she hefted her bag up onto her shoulder and the backpack in hand, opening the door and shutting it behind herself. Perhaps she’d stop by Hannibal’s empty home and pick up whatever dogs remained. Her car was small, but she doubted Will would’ve kept them all if he intended to stay with Hannibal.

Winston, he would’ve stayed. As would Buster. She liked both of the dogs, and she smiled as she placed her bags into the back of her truck, securing them down with a hook system and hard nylon rope. She’s keep the dogs in the front.

She knew where she’d go. She had ended up in a small community upon her last flee from this life and had made the acquaintance of a girl her age as well as her family. She’d go there, and they’d accept her without question. She wanted to say she could start a new life but that was a childish dream, she would live the life she always had, and she would accept it.

Abigail waited until she was inside before sliding her phone from her pocket, scrolling through her contacts before selecting a number and pressing the phone to her ear, biting her lip as she listened to the dial tone. Finally somebody picked up, and Abigail spoke.

“Hello, Jack Crawford? This is Abigail Hobbs.”

By the time Jack Crawford and the FBI arrived in Wolftrap, She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND TO THINK THIS STARTED WITH A FLUFFY LIL AU IDEA GOOD LORD
> 
> Anyways, i'd like to say a giant thanks to all the readers (idk how you guys read this crap but kudos) and i'm sorry if this was kinda lame 
> 
> Just so y'know this isn't going to be my last work and you can shoot me requests over my tumblr or twitter (I'm 'MajesticalJeff' on both) and i'll gladly take a shot at them. I also intend to do a few short fics and another big one coming up, so i'll hope to have you all reading again soon!
> 
> One last giant thank you and i hope to see y'all soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Right so, you made it. Congrats. So leave a comment if you maybe want me to continue? I don't know. I could probably make something out of this. Sorry if anyone seemed like they weren't in character, i wrote Will a little more carefree and Hannibal through his eyes. Thanks for reading.


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